


Kept

by masterofstars



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gore, M/M, Medical Kink, Mental Instability, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Gore, Stalking, Suicidal Thoughts, because he's high as fuck, specific tags on each chapter so read those
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-08-17 08:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofstars/pseuds/masterofstars
Summary: “We can make it hurt. We will, if you let us. We’ll make it hurt as much as you need, Sly.” It was the softest both Trip and Sly had ever heard Virus speak. The infliction was the same emptiness as usual but the gentle tone made it easy to imagine the ghost of a lovingly tone there.“You need it, don’t you?” Virus continued in little more than a whisper. “Let us take care of you. Let us fix it.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warnings:  
> \- drug abuse / addiction / almost overdosing  
> \- elements of non-con drug use  
> \- stalking   
> \- non-con sexual content because sly is high  
> \- emotional abuse / manipulation  
> \- emeto content  
> \- depression and suicidal thoughts / mental instability  
> \- mentions of aoba / dissociative identity disorder

Everything came in paralyzing flashes of neon light. It cycled through all colors of the rainbow with icy blue being the strongest; it was always the strongest and most saturated of the drugged lights. A dull stab of pain came along with the piercing blue flood light that was bright enough to blind. It couldn’t have been very far past midnight yet but in the densely packed club it could have been three in the morning or five in the afternoon - it didn’t matter. Bootleg chemical concoctions made it hard to comply with the passage of time. Acquiring anything better was near impossible in the Old Resident District. The north end was sketchy as all hell, and was the only place someone would be able to score something harder than pot. It was also home to most of the underground clubs, crime rings, and Rib team hideouts. Ever since Rhyme had gotten up off of the ground and more popular, it had also been swarmed by unseemingly Rhyme players waiting for new matches. Therefore, it was were Sly Blue spent the majority of his time now that he had gotten so deep into Rhyme. 

A year or so before, he never would have been caught dead in the ghost town that had become the north side. It was notorious for homing criminals and gangs. It’s reputation was known all over Midorijima. It was unsafe, and anyone who resided or spent time there was regarded as unbecoming. Rib itself wasn’t the cause of the reputation, since there were lots of Rib teams in other neighborhoods as well. In fact, ever since he was a young teenager he had been friends with the leader of one of the strongest Rib team’s leader, Mizuki, as well as Koujaku - leaders of Dry Juice and Benishigure respectively. Both teams were actually held in high regard in their territory. They contributed to the community and kept each other safe, unlike the teams on the abandoned north end.

The differences between the teams was stark. Loyalties and devotion could only get you so far in a place like the north end. In a place where Rib and Rhyme could be life or death, where full teams disappeared, and criminals were around every corner… you had to have your wits about yourself. It was something both Mizuki and Koujaku had told the blue haired teen over and over again since he’d gotten entangled with it all. The leader of Benishigure was less than happy with the turn of events and was very verbal about his objections to it, whereas Mizuki was concerned but still happy to let their precious Aoba have his fun.

Little did they know Aoba was far gone. Ever since the first exploratory match of Rhyme. The power that had rushed through them was electric.  _ Addictive.  _ Winning had come as second nature. What had scared Aoba had awoken Sly and held his attention. The rest was history after that. Night after night, a new drug each week, knocking down Rhyme players like dominoes. Sly didn’t know how he did it, but whenever he was stood in that digital field with the other players in front of him, he knew their weaknesses. He used it against them and each time he would come out victorious, high on the adrenaline. Needless to say, it had grabbed some attention… 

After a night of ruining on the Rhyme fields, a club was the perfect place to be. Music filled the small venue and brought the intoxication to a new level. Bodies collided in chaotic harmony within the confines of the dancefloor. Sweat, sex and sticky sweet alcohol permeated the air in a permanent perfume. Hands grabbed and blindly wound up on stranger’s figures in the uncoordinated movements. And in the midst of it all, Sly was faded and riding the wave of the crowd in a drug induced bliss. His veins were choked full of injected pharmaceuticals and the laced lights layered nicely with the intense high. A few drinks were settled in his stomach and had left his lips stained with sticky sweet tastes. The juxtaposition of calm and earth shaking excitement made the man feel more alive than he thought anything else could. 

The baseline pounded through the building and right through Sly’s body as he let the other dancers and clubgoers around him carry him however they pleased. Stranger’s hands skimmed over his body and clothes. His skin lit up under the constant touches, lulled into a soft comfort by the anonymity of it all. Maybe he could grab up someone for the night and have some fun. A blowjob out back behind the club… A quicky in one of the grungy bathroom stalls he knew so intimately… The possibilities were endless. 

In the dark, loud atmosphere of the club, and with the chemical remedy flooding his senses, it was no wonder that the man hadn’t noticed the two men that had been tailing him through his endeavours all night. It was hard to catch shadows even in the best of circumstances. Like this, Sly was helpless to the two as they stood to the side out of the way, clad in dark clothes and inquisiting glances. Admiring the way Sly moved in the midst of all the people. Sly’s escapades always were fun to watch whenever they had the extra time. 

“Shouldn’t we get him?” The taller of the two asked. He had leaned down to get closer to the other’s ear and speak over the overbearing dance music filling the room. 

“No, not yet.” Virus said in his even, casual tone. His unsettling blue eyes stayed pinned on their target where he was grinding back against a nobody on the lit dance floor. 

He could almost hear the frown in Trip’s voice. “It’s been a few hours since he did what we planted. If he stays here he’s going to overdose.”

Under the ever changing lights, the man’s blue hair took on the different tints of color and played over the angles of his face. From this far it was hard to see very well, but it wasn’t difficult to determine that there was a doped grin plastered over their victim’s face. His body rolled sinuously against the strangers in time with the music. Underneath his jacket, his shirt had ridden up from the movement and showed off a sliver of his pale, gorgeous skin. An unmarked, perfect plain of skin. 

Virus tilted his chin slightly towards Trip to acknowledge him properly. “And when he does, who better to save him than us?”

  
  


* * *

 

“Sly,” A voice came through the thin veil of unconsciousness. “Careful.”

Feeling his feet drag across the ground and clumsily trip over each other with each uneasy step, Sly could hardly look up enough to place the source of the words of caution. The movement stopped soon enough, but it didn’t help stop the spinning in his head. Opening his eyes made them both feel dizzy and crossed. The dirty concrete below spun as he tried to focus. In front of him he could see the outline of shoes: two shiny, white shoes that stood less than a foot in front of him. Creepers, if Sly had to guess the style. It seemed impossible to actually get them to stay in the right shape for more than a few seconds before the image became doubled, tripled, quadrupled. Nausea grew uncomfortably in his throat the more he tried until something firmly grabbed hold of his jaw and cut the feeling off before it could become unbearable and end with the colorful brew of alcohol in his stomach on the pavement.

Slowly, his gaze was guided upward. A blurry figure came into focus with Sly’s head steadied properly by the outside source. Blonde hair styled to one side with too many bobby pins, black wire frame glasses, a pristine white collar of a pressed dress shirt. A cool, thin line of a smile was directed at the blue haired junkie. Virus… So it must have been Trip who had the arm so securely around Sly’s waist. That made sense, somewhere, somehow in the back of Sly’s head it all clicked together through the cotton-y fuzz in his head.

“Yes, Aoba-san?” Virus’ voice rang out, smooth and uncharacteristically soft. It felt too close for how far away the man actually stood. Sly must have said something out loud by accident, yet he couldn’t remember what. Either way, the way he was addressed pissed him off.

“Sly.” The correction was bitten out in a hardly comprehendible snarl. As soon as it was out of his mouth Sly knew it was a mistake; The nausea hit him again like a punch to the stomach and he tried to force a gag down noisily.

Two chuckles came as response. One from beside him, deep and amused, and the other from in front of him. 

Sly let his head hang in Virus’ hold just as the man started to click his tongue in chastisement. Two pairs of blue eyes stared down at the pathetic show. “Looks like you’ve taken the partying too far, Sly. Again.” 

No answer was given. Instead of playing their games, he had taken to trying to get in steadier breaths. Losing his stomach in a raunchy back alley wasn’t one of Sly’s favorite pass times. It wouldn’t be the first time, not by a long shot, but that didn’t mean he necessarily enjoyed it. Especially not in front of the two maniacs holding him captive at the moment. No doubt they would get off to every moment of it, if they weren’t already. Sly had the sneaking suspicion that these encounters of theirs weren’t coincidental. 

In reality, his suspicions were one hundred percent correct. If only he paid more attention to his surroundings instead of worrying about where he’d get his next hit. The two yakuza had eyes for him more often than he ever could have used. Being leaders of the most cryptic, and most dangerous Rib team had their perks. Having ties with the owner of the entire island also made it easier to keep track of Sly when they weren’t busy babysitting his brother. After keeping tabs on his Rhyme career, they had directly approached Sly to ask him to join Morphine only to be turned down by the vulgar teen. Although, it had gained them an unlikely friendship with him. Still… It wasn’t enough. So, for the past few months they had been purposely keeping up to date on the ‘who, what and where’s of Sly’s life in order to plant the drugs that he would end up taking. Morphine made an easy front of getting the drugs around. After all, brainwashed workers would never spill any information if they were caught. Losing a few bodies didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of getting the one object of their desires. 

More than a few times they had landed in a situation close to the one now. Never so bad as this, as they kept the doses and quality of the drugs under strict control. Toeing the line between too much and just enough was simple for them, and made it so they could easily have Sly fucked beyond comprehension and on his knees before them. 

“Sly.” The name came from an irritated Trip after the blue haired man had taken too long to respond - just a few seconds before a shock of pain jolted up the back of Sly’s neck to the top of his skull. It wasn’t more than a light brush to his hair, but it shook through him as if Trip had grabbed and yanked back the long strands at the back of his neck. He cried out, but his own ears were ringing too much for him to hear himself. Only Trip and Virus got the pleasure of witnessing it. 

“It’s not very polite of you to ignore us.” Trip chuckled. His fingers ran through the blue locks slowly, and each second was agony. 

“Fuck… you.” Sly managed to hiss out even through the wetness that started to sting at the edge of his eyes. It took all his stretch to focus enough to gather enough saliva in his mouth to spit harshly at Virus’ shoes. The small moment of victory as it landed on the top of the highly polished white leather was sweet while it lasted. It was short lived when his vision blanked and searing hot pain ran down his spine. His neck stretched as his head was yanked back. For a brief moment the world fell away and Sly was suspended on air, nothing but the white hot feeling under his skin to keep him grounded. Both of the blonde men looked up to exchange a quick, knowing glance. Trip kept Sly standing with steady hands and Virus looked over the crying face of their captive, appreciating how the dark blue lashes fluttered with tears clinging to them. 

When the ground came back under Sly he was panting. His cheeks felt wet and warm where fingers brushed over them. Soft, light pressure on his skin swiped over the damp tears. It could almost have been called a tender gesture if not for how the hold at the back of his neck still kept him in agony. A light hum of sound came to mix with the steady thud of his heartbeat deep in his ears as Virus hummed. Trying to look up proved impossible with the wet sheen over his eyes that made his vision swim both physically and metaphorically now. The only real indicator that told him Virus was closer was the soft puff of breath over his own lips as the man laughed. 

“Sly… You always look so pretty when you cry.” 

Sly didn’t have time to figure out whether it was a compliment or a mockery before firm, soft lips pressed to his own chapped ones. It was light - a mimicry of an innocent kiss. A kiss you would give a middle school crush for the time. The kind of kiss you save for romantic, starlit walks when it’s quiet and the air is thick with emotion. Virginal in it’s sweetness. A horrendous fraud of affection that didn’t belong in the dark shadows of a back alley, nor was it meant for someone with tainted veins and bloody knuckles. It was nothing more than a trap where Virus didn’t even need to move. A single pulse of a heartbeat and Sly fell headfirst into it without need for encouragement. 

The trembling man surged forward into the false affection. Pulling against the hold in his hair had new pain blossoming as black spots in his vision that he ignored in favor of feeling Virus’ lips part so easily for him. To his side Trip was grinning that awful grin of his, and Sly knew that he was giving into their games without even putting up a fight, but that all fell away when the man in front of him stepped closer once more and wrapped an elegant arm around his waist. Shaking, desperate hands came up to grab the clothed wrist close to his face. Virus’ tongue slid into place next to Sly’s in a hot glide that just barely started to satisfying the deep, primal urge that clawed at the inside of Sly’s belly. It wanted more,  _ he  _ wanted more from the monster professing to be man before him. 

It was everything the older man had planned and hoped for. After months of getting into Sly’s head in little way, it had come to his attention quickly that Sly was desperate. It hardly ever showed outwardly when the man was sober, or lightly buzzed. The wit, snark and devilish charm covered it up seamlessly. It was when he was in this kind of state - near out of his mind and going off of desire and need - that Sly’s true nature showed. Adrenaline and a good high weren’t the only thing he craved. Attention, sexual deviance, pleasure,  _ love _ \- Once they knew, Trip and Virus played into every one of Sly’s desires. 

The presence at Sly’s side disappeared and was replaced by a heated breath at the shell of one of his ears and a hard press of an erection against the back of his jeans. Trip’s form fitted to his back and crowded him up against the slender of the two, keeping him caged between the two of them against his will. Not that he fought it… A whine of pleasure escaped his throat on the first small, calculated rock of Trip’s hips up against his ass and Virus’ mouth captured the sound with lips curled into a small smirk. Feeling it more than seeing it, it still managed to irk Sly. Even with his insides seemly squirming with heat and want bubbling just beneath the surface. He still managed the spite to bite down on Virus’ lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Still feisty.” Trip muttered as Virus pulled back just enough to lick over the cut on his lip. There was no flinch, no recoil, not even a sound to go along with the pain that should have come from the bite. Not even much annoyance to be seen from his expression. Inhuman… The thought passed through Sly’s brain slow like molasses. 

If it were anyone else, they probably would have been bleeding out on the pavement by that point. Aoba was always a different story. No… Not Aoba. Sly. As confusing as it might be, the two look alikes picked up on it quickly. Aoba and Sly were two sides of the same coin; looking into the man’s past in Toue’s files had come up with lots of information on Aoba’s past, such as how the teen had been ‘abandoned’ by his parents as far as authorities are concerned, and lived with his grandma with a small group of friends and a clean record - up until the last year. Aoba wasn’t the one going on benders and sleeping his days away on the couch at his friend’s bar slash tattoo parlour. Aoba wasn’t cutting down player after player so ruthlessly he was accused of cheating the system. Sly…Sly was the one falling apart before them from his own inner turmoil and need. Sly was the one who kept fighting, no matter how much he wanted to give in. Sly was the one who lit the spark of excitement in the two yakuza. 

“But that’s why we like you. You never seize to entertain.” Virus said. “It would be sad to see you die from these nights out of yours.” 

“I’m not…” Sly’s styled eyebrows pulled together on his face, a frown setting in place on his face that made Virus smile more. “I’m not dying, you freaks.” 

“We found you passed out at that club.” Trip gladly explained in a trained pace into his ear. 

“So? I pass out sometimes. Drank too much.” The retort came with defensive air to it, almost offended that the men would doubt his ability to gauge his limit. The idea that Sly thought he had any control over any of his intake almost made Virus want to laugh. 

A strong, slender hand came up to grab onto one of Sly’s wrists where he was grasping so direly to Virus’ own arm. With a mean jerk, he twisted it to be face up and dragged the baggy sleeve of the jacket up until Sly’s entire forearm was on display. Ugly purple and yellow bruises littered the backdrop of deep bruises all along the veins of the arm. A specifically dreadful looking bruise was forming where Trip and Virus had watched the man get his fix earlier that night. 

The fight against Virus’ hold was weak even by normal standards. Sly hissed through his teeth and tried to pull his arm from the grip to no avail. Embarrassment and something else… Something like hurt came across his face as he glared up at Virus. “So  _ what?! _ It’s none of your fucking business, four eyes.” 

A ‘tsk’ of sound came when Virus clicked his tongue. Playing their cards right was curial with Sly being such a wild card. The look of hurt had piqued Virus’ interest, but it could wait. Now, they had to focus on actually getting Sly where they wanted him. The hand on Sly’s wrist started to gently rub circles on the paper-y flesh with a thumb. “Overdosing wouldn’t suit you. If you stay here, you’ll surely die.”

Wet, bright yellow eyes darted around Virus’ face in a panic. Trying to guess what Sly was thinking wouldn’t do much, but somehow Virus didn’t think the panic was caused by the idea of dying.

Behind the teary look Sly’s mind was reeling. Don’t die, we can’t die, what about ba-chan? It would be leaving her all alone, without anyone to care for her. No, it would be leaving her alone without anyone to annoy her. Dying would mean Koujaku and Mizuki would be heartbroken… But who gave a fuck about them? What about  _ themselves? _ What about all the pain they were going through, all the time? What about the constant despair filling them up? Drowning it out with drugs and one night stands wouldn’t work forever.

The two scrambled for answers, for a decision to be made. The darkness felt too overwhelming for Sly to ever escape, and going back to how it had been before wasn’t a possibility he wanted to entertain. Aoba could fight all he wanted against their fate but it wouldn’t change anything. In the end, this was what they would fall into anyway, right? Might as well make it fun…

“Kill me.” Sly blurted out loudly into the empty alleyway. “Leave me here, that’s fine.”

Virus’ face didn’t change at all as he spoke. “I don’t think so.”

Frustration pushed its way to the front of Sly’s mind and somewhere, Aoba seemed to flood with relief. That wouldn’t do. Licking over his cracked, dry lips, Sly looked at Virus with more conviction. “ _ Kill me. _ Use me. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Fuck me then leave me here. Make it hurt.” 

Behind Sly, Trip looked to Virus to see what the answer to the borderline dirty talked question was. Frankly, it didn’t really suit Trip to spend so much time on the blue haired teen then just leave him there, ruined and used on his deathbed. Even if the words had made his trapped cock strain against both his pants and Sly’s ass. It didn’t seem right to play with their prey so long just to slaughter it so quickly. 

Luckily, Virus seemed to agree. There was no verbal acknowledgement but Trip could tell. Virus’ grip on Sly’s arm tightened before he let go completely to let the limb hang limply for Trip to grab hold of. The arm around Sly’s waist slid up between the jacket and Sly’s shirt to rub up along his spine. Faux comfort for a man who trembled ceaselessly under the touch. “We can make it hurt. We will, if you let us. We’ll make it hurt as much as you need, Sly.” It was the softest both Trip and Sly had ever heard Virus speak. The infliction was the same emptiness as usual but the gentle tone made it easy to imagine the ghost of a lovingly tone there. 

While Trip didn’t react to it, Sly’s breath audibly hitched. It was already iffy to begin with but the little hiccup could be felt against Trip’s chest and Virus’ hand. They had him. 

“You need it, don’t you?” Virus continued in little more than a whisper. “Let us take care of you. Let us fix it.”

The blue head of hair shook back and forth almost violently. Sly’s eyes finally screwed shut again as he very purposely pulled his head to the side to not look at Virus anymore. The blonde could see the moment the movement registered and took a step back just in time. 

Toxic looking fluid splashed onto the ground as Sly gagged and wretched. His body sagged forward where it was held and Trip effortlessly took all the weight to keep him up. Alcohol and mixers burned through Sly’s throat along with stomach acid, all landing on the concrete below. His lips dripped with the mixture, and before he knew it, fluid from his nose as well. His throat clenched tight and his chest shuddered with a harsh sob. 

Above him Trip and Virus shared a knowing look. Only once Sly was done and left a shivering, sobbing mess in Trip’s hold did Virus reach out and caress over one of his far too warm cheeks. He was careful to avoid any of the mess on his face, not expecting when Sly actually leaned into his touch. Without looking up, Virus spoke to Trip. “Get him into the car.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings:  
> \- medical content / descriptions  
> \- needle use  
> \- mentions of drug abuse / use / addiction  
> \- mental health issues / depression / suicidal thoughts and suicide attempt mentions  
> \- choking (sexually and non)  
> \- non-con elements  
> \- violence  
> \- implied trip x virus but not explicit  
> \- general emotional and physical manipulation

The car had been parked a few blocks away from the bar and club scene. Taking the risk of it being vandalized would have made it easier to get the job done. However, as Virus pointed out several times, replacing the car would have been an unnecessary hassle. A sleek, black Fisker with custom rims sat waiting for them after they made the short walk with Sly carried bridal style in Trip’s arms. No one had even blinked an eye at the trio - all stylishly dressed to fit into the crowd. If anyone had recognized Sly it wouldn’t have mattered. Seeing the guy passed out after a rough night was nothing new.

The doors to the car had smoothly slid up and open for Sly to be laid down in the backseat. With some excuse about not wanting him to choke on his own vomit, Trip had joined him in the back. Virus knew it was bullshit but let it go. Not commenting on it was better for both of them. Virus took place in the front on the driver’s side and they were off. In the back, Trip easily arranged it so Sly had his head resting peacefully on one of his thighs, cheek pressed to the fabric of his pants. His skin looked far too pale in the low light of the passing streetlights once they got out of the dark streets of the north side of the island. The car’s ride was smooth enough to not disturb him, however, so he stayed quiet and out like a light the entire time. 

It took about an hour to drive the roads to the entrance of Platinum Jail. Both their coils were scanned and the car’s license was checked before access was given, as always. The Oval Tower overlooked the trendy, brightly lit scenery of Midnight Blue Coast. There was always people wandering, shopping, socializing… Loitering at all times of the day, even in the ungodly early hours of the morning. Getting to their apartment was just as lengthy as usual with all the pedestrians. 

While their work was at the Oval Tower with Sei or controlling things from the inside, or out in the Old Residence District, their apartment wasn’t all that close to the building. Located deep in the residential part of the dark district, their place was rather average for Platinum Jail. Two large rooms, a large kitchen, living room, two bathrooms. It would be strange to call it a home, but it certainly served it’s function well. The car pulled into the short driveway and while Virus cut the engine and started to get out, Trip made a point of trying to wake up Sly. He moved a hand into the long strands of hair, now slightly greasy after the long drive and hours of being high… But there was no response. No pained yelp or even a shift of movement. The same results came from gently patting his cheek, and shaking his shoulder. 

“He’s out cold. He needs fluids to flush out his system.” The car doors moved up gracefully to reveal Virus leaning over with an arm braced on the roof of the car. “Come on.” 

Trip nodded at what he already knew, and he pulled Sly into his arms with ease to climb out of the car. There was a dark spot of drool left on his pants where the younger man had been sleeping that made Trip let out a soft snort of a laugh when he found it. No harm, no foul. It was kind of cute. 

Inside of the apartment, the lights were left off and the two parted ways for the time being. Sly was carried upstairs to be deposited into one of the two beds. Knowing that Virus would be the one playing doctor, Trip decided on using his bed to house their sleeping beauty. The room was completely dark as he walked through it. Before setting Sly down he made sure to pat down the bed to check for a certain snake that might have taken up residence. When he found it empty, he gently laid the man down, on his side just in case. Virus could decide whether or not he wanted him under the covers after. Trip could never remember if it was better to keep someone with a fever warm or let them be slightly chillier. 

Sly was finally accounted for and taken care of, so Trip let himself pull off the ridiculous shirt from over his sweater and sink himself into the couch in the room. No doubt there would be a show soon enough, and if Virus kicked him out, then oh well. 

It took several long minutes for Virus to actually come into the room, and when he did it was with arms full of supplies and a suspicious slinking of sound following behind him. The light was turned on - low, just enough to properly see what he was doing. The stock of medical supplies was set on the end of the bed, and Virus got to undressing Sly. Trip couldn’t help but notice that Virus had also lost his shredded shirt that covered his dress shirt, as well as the neck tie. The first two buttons were popped open, giving more room for Virus to move as he pulled off Sly’s jacket and shirt. Both articles of clothing were carefully folded and placed to the side. Had it been Trip, he would have just tossed them. He guessed that’s why Virus never let him handle these kind of things. 

Trip’s eyes never left the other man as he started to check over the inside of Sly’s arms with prodding fingers. Virus had never been particularly bothered by the staring, though. He didn’t understand why Trip was sticking around, but he didn’t understand a lot of the things Trip did. No reason to question it. His attention was given fully to finding a vein that wasn’t collapsed - a very tricky feat considering the state they had gotten Sly into.

It took ten minutes and heated blankets laid on both arms to be able to find one that wouldn’t collapse and disappear as soon as Virus tried to thumb over it. Plastic tourniquet tied around Sly’s arm, a standard winged needle slid through skin to find its place in the one cooperative vein just beneath one of the wrists. Every move was clinical and precise as Virus made sure the IV was taped securely and that it was all properly connected to the fluid bag, which was hung promptly on one of the bed posts. 

“It will take an hour to get through that bag, then I’ll slow it down. For now we need to flush the morphine out quickly before there’s any permanent damage.” Virus explained for no reason in particular, if only to hear his plan out loud for himself. Trip wouldn’t ever ask for any explanations on that type of thing. As he spoke Hersha found his way onto the bed and curiously came closer to Sly. A shove of his hand into the allmate’s smooth side was enough to stop the exploration in its tracks and have Hersha coiling up at the end of the bed. 

“So… what do we do until then?” Trip’s voice came from across the room, sounding bored.

Looking down at Sly, Trip would never see the way Virus rolled his eyes at the question. Taking jeans off an unconscious person always proved to be much more difficult than anything above the waist. It was a struggle until the denim came down off Sly’s hips. Then it was somewhat easy to slide them down and fold them like the other items of his apparel. It left the man looking much more slender and smaller than before. Virus noted the bruises along the inside of Sly’s thighs as he got the covers out from under him and tucked him in loosely. 

Once done he finally turned to address Trip. “Anything you like. Just like normal.” 

Trip leaned forward where he sat on the couch so his elbows were rested on his knees. He still had the ridiculous spiked sweater on. “Aren’t you going to play with him?” 

“No.” Virus answered sharply. “Doing anything with him like this would risk killing him.” 

The displeased look on Trip’s face said enough about what he thought of the care Virus was putting into keeping their captive alive. In reality, Trip knew that he was right. The older of the two was the one who actually cared to retain more than basic amount of first aid. If only because it got his dick hard, Trip thought to himself with a hint of amusement. 

“Alright. He’ll stay here for the night. Do you want to sleep in my room?” He pulled himself up off the couch with a long stretch of his arms over his head. His mind wandered to whether or not his allmate would be already lounging on the bed in his room or if he would have to track him down before getting to finally sleep before work. 

“No.” Virus said shortly again in answer. It was more surprising the second time around. 

Sleeping together wasn’t unheard of for them, even if the occasion was rare sometimes. Having a guy take up most of your bed would be a good occasion to share. Turning down the invitation was slightly out of character and didn’t make much sense. When Trip really focused back on Virus’ face he found the man’s eyes back on Sly where he took up the space in his bed. Annoyance crept up on Trip in abundance… but he couldn’t exactly blame him. Something about the fiery, scrappy young man drew attention like nothing else could. Even without his voice to pull them in. 

A shrug of his shoulders and a hint of a smirk accompanied Trip’s words as he left the room. “Okay. Don’t have fun without me.”

A scoff fell from Virus’ lips in distaste. “I won’t.” 

The door closed with a light click after Trip let himself out. The remaining medical supplies was gathered and moved to the bedside table beside the small pile of Sly’s clothes. The light was dimmed further until it was just barely a warm glow over the room, and when Virus sat in an empty space on the edge of the bed near the headboard, he was sure not to disturb the length of plastic tubing connected to the bag of fluid. Sly was still laid on his side, not moved from where he had last been adjusted when he was tucked in. Light eyelashes sat prettily against his fever flushed cheeks. A hand tentatively moved to stroke fingers through the bangs that fell into Sly’s face messily. No flinch came from the touch. His face remained peaceful and relaxed without a hint of pain, and as Virus continued to play his fingers through the blue strands he ignored the feeling that welled up inside him at that fact.

  
  


Waking up felt like it took hours. Every one of Sly’s limbs felt too heavy to move more than a few skimpy centimeters, and his mouth felt so dry that it might as well have been filled with cotton. The room he was in was dark, so it was hard to tell if it was morning or if he had slept right through the day and into the night. That happened sometimes after taking a few too many hits or accepting too many drinks. One thing he could be thankful for was the bed - an unearthly soft blanket over top of him keeping him warm and a mattress with the perfect ratio of give and firmness. Memory foam, maybe. It felt like a dream, either way. 

It was hard to tell just how long he spent drifting in and out of sleep. The light in the room never changed from the shadowy yellow glow that seemed to make the comfort that much greater. Sometimes when he swam between conscious and not he could swear there was movement; in the corner of his eye, or sometimes more real in the way of shifting that made the blankets move around him. There was never any sound to accompany it, though. Hallucinations. Maybe he had overdosed…Who had told him that he was going to in the first place? Trying place a name and a face made his head feel like it was going to split in half, so he let it go and drifted once more. He could go back home soon and get more of the medicine ba-chan had for him. It had been a while since he had been home…

 

It had been awful to convince himself to leave Sly home alone with just the allmates, but Virus had done it with some help from Trip’s surprisingly logical arguments. If they didn’t show up to work it wouldn’t be too suspicious, but it would warrant Toue looking into what they were spending the day doing. Getting caught staying at home for the day wasn’t something either of them. Frankly, Virus would rather be caught in the midst of torture or dealing than be caught with the car still in the driveway when they were supposed to be at Sei’s side. Coming back home, they had been met with the exact same situation as when they had left: Sly in bed, under the covers with the fluids almost out and the man’s cheek pressed to the pillow on the opposite side. He had moved, however long ago, which was good to know. 

“When will he wake up?” Trip asked with an air of impatience about it. He was sat across the near empty table in their kitchen. His allmate, Welter, could just be seen from where he sat under the table at Trip’s feet with his head rested on his paws. Listening, no doubt. 

Virus lightly shrugged his shoulders and brought his mug up to his lips for a contemplative sip. “Anytime now. We know his habits; they aren’t exactly optimal for perfect health. He’s still recovering.” 

A long sigh left Trip. The chair scraped across the kitchen tile as he rose from it, and seconds later the sound of Welter’s claws clicking on the floor joined as well. “He’s taking too long.”

“Don’t touch him, Trip.” Virus warned. The infliction and pace of it were the same as always. No sharpness, no distrust in it. Trip still glared at the unsaid accusation and turned on his heel quickly.

“Take your own advice.” The petty remark came as no surprise as Virus cupped his mug with both hands and watched Trip’s back disappear through the doorway with the large cat in tow. Whatever jealousy Trip had was unfounded, and not worth the concern.    
  


 

It ended up taking two days for Sly to completely come around. There had been contemplation of setting up a feeding tube along with the fluids so the brat didn’t starve away while recovering, but Virus had decided to postpone it another day. Two days wasn’t great for someone in Sly’s condition, but it wasn’t life threatening either. So long as the fluids passed through him then the morphine and alcohol was surely gone from his system, and that was top priority. There had been some times when Trip or Virus would catch brief moments where flashes of yellow eyes could be seen. Usually fluttery and cloudy, out of focus. 

Virus had thought that was all it was when Sly shifted and tried to open his eyes. It was after work, and he had sat himself down on the side of the bed with his legs up beside Sly as he’d grown accustomed to, with a book in hand and his glasses resting lower on the bridge of his nose. His eyes moved over to Sly to watch as he took in his surroundings from where he was laid on his side, facing him. When those yellow eyes finally settled on him, he could see that they were seeing properly and not lost in a fever dream. 

“Good morning, Sly.” 

It was cute how both blue eyebrows pulled together in a puzzled look at the whispered greeting. He was so free with expressions. Even more so when he was so out of sorts. 

“Wh…” Sly’s word faded off when it came out scratchy from disuse. Further confusion… even more cute. His gaze lowered again to the expanse of black bedding. The indentation of where Hersha had been sleeping at the end of the bed was still there, along with Virus’ legs over the covers and Sly’s tucked neatly under them. 

Virus didn’t push anything. Instead he waited until Sly looked back up at him and spoke. “Where am I?” 

The accusatory tone wasn’t Virus’ favorite, but it was made better by the still rough quality of Sly’s voice. He didn’t take much offense to it anyway. It would be unrealistic to expect Sly to remember much of what had happened when they ‘found’ him at the club. 

“My bed, in our apartment.” Virus said in a matter of fact tone, still quiet in the silence of the room. 

“...I don’t have an apartment with you, psycho. Remind me why I’m friends with you.” Sly’s lip curled up in a sneer. He made a weak attempt at sitting up with an elbow propped up underneath himself. 

There was a small debate in his head so to whether or not Virus should stop the outcome of the attempt. In the end, seeing how Sly would respond to it won out, and as thought, the shaky limb did an awful job of holding Sly’s weight, causing him to sink right back into the bed in defeat. A frustrated sound came from somewhere in Sly’s throat and amused Virus to hell and back. 

“Not your apartment.  _ Our _ apartment. Trip’s and mine.” He finally took pity and explained for the disoriented man before him. 

Still, Sly didn’t seem happy with it. He had learned his lesson and didn’t bother to try and get up again. There were other ways to voice his displeasure with the situation, after all. “Are you serious? You brought me to your house? You kidnapped me. I can totally call the cops on you both and have you thrown in jail, you know that right? You pricks are obsessed with me, I swear-”

“You seemed rather eager before passing out for two days straight. Should I assume your consent is withdrawn?” Virus asked teasingly. The tone wasn’t teasing, but the words themselves were far from serious. Humorous, even. Consent wasn’t a foreign concept. It was, however, something that both of the blondes were under the impression that could be manufactured. 

Sly, on the other hand, didn’t find it as funny. In fact, it only further confused him. Trying to wrap his head around everything Virus was telling him made the headache come back with a vengeance. Hell, the fact that he was even laying there with the predatory man beside him was enough to have him feeling surreal about the whole situation. Last he remembered, he had been in the club with someone touching him in the wrong - and right - places. Maybe there was… something else? It was hard to pinpoint though. It’s possible that the not-twins could have been there. They had fooled around before on nights where Sly was feeling particularly friendly.

What didn’t make sense was why he would have passed out for  _ two days  _ and ended up in the man’s home. 

“Fuck that. What did you do?” Sly demanded.

“Re-hydrated you and let you rest.” Virus stated simply. 

“Yeah, sure you did.” He retaliated with a violent hiss. “I know how this goes. If you fucked me just say so.”

The blonde shook his head and said plainly, “You were dying.” 

“I wasn’t dying.” He scoffed at the absurd explanation. Sly Blue knew his limits. He was a party-er, yeah, but he would never go so far as to kill himself on a night out. Never on accident, no. If he was going to die, it was going to be on his own terms. 

A huff of a sigh came from Virus before there was movement. An arm pulled the covers back and then Virus was crowding his vision. Turned onto his back, Sly stared up wide-eyed at the older man where he was grabbing onto a bruised wrist. That… hadn’t been there before the club. A tight, uncomfortable feeling came as his arm was tugged up. It felt insanely odd and somehow also familiar. In his peripheral vision something was hanging down from the same arm that felt dead heavy in Virus’ grasp. His focus moved over just enough to take in the thin, clear tubing that was attached to his arm by a neatly taped needle - clear tape, so he could see the lavender purple plastic wings and the exact spot where the metal met his skin. 

“You begged us, Sly. It was quite a show.” Virus spoke as if assessing the weather instead of what he was actually doing - towering over Sly and holding dangerously close to where the IV was placed in his arm. “You should have told us sooner that you hurting in such a way. Death by overdose… it isn’t a pleasant way to go.” 

Once more those beautifully vibrant yellow eyes widened in realization. Virus watched it, each stage of remembrance asit passed over Sly’s face, until it landed on something between anger and desperation. Such a good look on him. 

“I didn’t try and kill myself! I’m not a fucking idiot! Dying in a ditch somewhere isn’t exactly the fame status I’m going for, you dick. Let me go, I need to go home.” Anger and resent spiked through Sly at the same time. Neither of the freaks had any business getting into any of his issues. It wasn’t their job to keep him from dying, even if he  _ had _ made an attempt to take his life. Which he definitely hadn’t done. His only goal was to get some head or tail and then call it a night. 

A hum resounded through the air. It was irritating how noncommittal and vague the acknowledgement was. As if Virus had better things to be doing than listen to him. “You don’t go home often, do you?” 

“So what? How do you know that?” 

“You’ve broken the only family you have left. I wonder why… Maybe that’s why you were so desperate to have someone fix things for you. You only know how to destroy.” The fingers around Sly’s wrists moved to instead hold onto his hand. His slender fingers, scabbed across the knuckles with nails painted black, where each given a ghost of a kiss by the blonde between words. Honeysuckle sweet touches of his lips while toxicity flowed from his mouth and burned Sly up from the inside. 

Rage spewed inside of him too hotly alongside the despair that threatened to overflow and drown him. Two emotions, both too strong to bear, warred at each other ruthlessly. How Virus managed to get things right on the nose, he had no idea, and almost didn’t want to. The events of the night they had weren’t of any interest to him anymore. It didn’t matter, if this is what they talked about. Whose to tell what Sly might’ve said when he was so hopped up on… whatever it is he had done. The memory of it was foggy. 

“You need someone to get that hurt out and onto the surface. You cover it up with all the drugs and the games, but that won’t help forever, now will it? You need something more. Something only we can give you. We can pull that ache out in ways you could never imagine.” Virus made the promise confidently, knowing that it was something him and Trip could easily make good on. 

“Stop.” Sly yanked his hand away from Virus’ loose hold, ignoring the pain that sparked through his wrist in little twinges as the needle shifted slightly. A disgusted snarl came over his lips at having to hear his dirty laundry spilled out before him by the blonde. He’d already been picked up by them like trash on the side of the road. He didn’t need them looking at him like some kind of charity case. 

A displeased huff of sound came out of Virus quietly. Leave it to Sly to argue now that he was sober and taken care of. Immature, foolish… Not unaccounted for, though. Virus had every possibility accounted for. He let the arm be pulled from his grasp, if only because it freed both of his hands to be able to clasp them around Sly’s thin neck. The look on his face was priceless, but not quite good enough. Virus’ thumbs pushed down on either side of his windpipe in a way that he knew would leave beautiful matching bruises. 

Instantly Sly’s angry demeanor turned into panic again - grabbing onto both of Virus’ arms and kicking his legs around under the covers uselessly. As he was now he would never be able to stand a chance of stopping it. Virus wasn’t as built as Trip, being the lankier of the two, but he did make sure he was formidable enough in case the younger blonde was otherwise occupied or if he was alone. Underneath the pressed white cotton of his shirt his muscles surged with the effort of choking Sly out until an ugly sound retched from the throat convulsing beneath his hands. 

“If you’ve changed your mind, then we’ll go with your plan. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” His voice changed under the strain of effort to keep Sly down, yet his face never changed a bit. The same unaffected, cool expression stayed in place as he watched the man’s face slowly go from red to verging on blue-ish purple. He timed the seconds in his head until Sly stopped struggling and his eyes started to roll upwards.

Sly, on the other hand, was sure he really was going to die - and at the hands of Virus, no less. It wasn’t how he ever imagined it happening. He was sure it would be with a broken mirror in a grimey bathroom somewhere, or with a full bottle of the headache pills settled nicely in his stomach with some vodka. The idea of begging one of these guys for death was kind of gross, and yet… this wasn’t the worst. Yeah, it hurt like fuck, but that was kind of nice. The pain stabbed at this windpipe and cut off any chance of getting air into his lungs, which slowly started to burn from the lack of oxygen. Time slowed and his already foggy thoughts got more float-y and despondent. His fingers went limp around Virus’ arms and he could feel the pulsing of blood in his ears, his throat, his cock. 

Pain and pleasure flooded his systems in tandem. In an uncoordinated movement his hips twitched up to where Virus was sat between them. Being trapped under the covers made it difficult, but that alone got enough friction for his groin to light up with white hot pleasure. Black spots started to blink in and out of his vision, blocking parts of Virus’ face. It was overwhelming and not enough at the same time. He heard himself choke on a high pitched moan as he rutted up against Virus’ leg in anguish. Just trying to get to the edge before he would eventually black out and be gone. He was so close. Just a little more - 

Above him Virus couldn’t help but smirk. Raising the pressure off of Sly’s neck at the exact right moment proved more than rewarding. The man’s back arched against the mattress as he sucked in air loudly, lips parted far too temptingly. Hips bucked and twitched up against Virus’ own groin up until Sly found his release and froze up.

It was better than an orgasm. Or at least better than any orgasms Sly had ever experienced. His lungs burned with the new air filling them and white blanked out his vision until he was looking up at nothing. Deep, hot pulses accompanied each throb of his dick where it made a mess of his boxers. The hands that stayed bracketed around his neck worked as phantom feelings of the excruciating pain that had been there not seconds before. It was hard to tell how long it lasted before he finally fell back to the bed as a sweaty, panting mess. His eyes fluttered closed and fingers stroked along the pulse on the side of his neck as if to help get his heartbeat to calm down from it’s mile per minute pace. 

“You… you didn’t…” Sly tried to speak through his panting, raspy breaths coming in too quickly. 

“Kill you?” Virus asked. He retracted both of his hands and briefly checked to make sure Sly’s IV was still in place before crawling off of the bed. “You wouldn’t have had finished if I had. Why ruin it?”

It was a good question to Sly’s fuzzy brain. Afterglow came to him blissfully and once more he found it hard to open his eyes. Somewhere, deep down he knew that there would have to be more thought about what had just happened - Virus kidnapping him, almost killing him, Virus giving him the best orgasm of his whole life. Not now, though. No use ruining the heavy, comforting pleasure that almost covered the remaining dull ache of pain. Happy with his decision to deal with it all later, Sly rolled back onto his side and wrapped arms around one of the several pillows in the bed. 

The sight made Virus smile in both contentment and satisfaction. He busied himself with switching out the bag of fluids and discarding the old one while Sly started to drift off back into sleep. Just before he was fully lost to it, Virus spoke softly. “I’ll be back later with something for you to eat. Goodnight, Sly.” 

Curled up in the blankets and pillows, Sly just barely managed a grunt that sounded like somewhat of a conformation. By the time Virus was at the door and snapping his fingers for Hersha to follow, he was dead asleep where he lay.

 

* * *

 

“You what?” Trip asked incredulously. 

Virus rolled his eyes to himself, making sure to keep his eyes down on the cutting board on the counter. “Choked him.” 

“That’s what all the noise was?” The taller blonde rested his elbow on the marble countertop beside where Virus was standing and scanned over him.

“You know I hate repeating myself.” The usual level of annoyance that would have come along with the pet peeve was, admittedly, nonexistent. It was hard to find room to be that irritated about it after the evening he’d had. Now, with a glass of wine poured and a bowl of fruit being prepared, it was almost calming in a way to watch the knife glide through the pieces. 

Beside him, Trip was less calming. His temper wasn’t incredibly obvious by outward standards, however they’d been working together long enough for Virus to see it in even the smallest of his actions. He was hovering more than usual since coming out to inquire about the noise, his questions were somewhat passive aggressive, and his jealousy was aired out pretty embarrassingly - even if Trip himself didn’t notice that it was. 

His chin tilted away from Virus towards the floor where Hersha was politely coiled in waiting. “What happened to not touching him?”

“He started to resist. I was merely securing his… retainment. It’s not my fault he gained sexual gratification from it.” Virus smiled to himself when he knew Trip wasn’t looking. It wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but sometimes messing with Trip was as good a source of entertainment as the one sleeping in his room. 

“He what?” This time Trip’s voice raised above neutral and the heat in his eyes reached his voice finally. 

Virus knew he was toeing the line, one that he wouldn’t be able to get back over once he crossed. It had happened before, whether on accident or on purpose. Having Trip as a… partner always came with pros and cons. He was, of course, loyal. They both were to each other. They always had been since their silence agreement had started. At the end of the day, no matter their differences, they understood each other. Their skills complemented each other, making things a breeze in the working world. Behind closed doors, it was always more tricky. Virus had learned when to back down and when to keep going long ago. 

With a small smile, Virus stated plainly. “He came.”

All at once the kitchen erupted in movement. Trip’s arm came out to grab the front of Virus’ shirt, stretching and stressing the fabric to the point where the buttons almost popped under the hold. On the floor Hersha’s head raised up to waist level and drew back with fangs shining in an open mouthed hiss. Two sets of icy blue eyes bore into each other. Quick as lightning the chef’s knife in Virus’ hand flicked up to sit under Trip’s chin. The sharp, sticky sweet blade pressed into the soft skin under the hard set jaw. Not hard enough to cut, just enough to tease the idea. 

Trip’s jaw clenched and moved under the almost playfully cold glare of Virus’ eyes and the cold steel of the kitchen knife. “You won’t. You’d enjoy it too much.”

Virus stayed steady with his glare and over the long seconds Trip’s face broke into a sly grin. They both knew this was practically foreplay, and about as threatening as a toy gun held to one of their heads. 

“Fine.” The knife was lowered and Virus turned back to where the line of watermelon was waiting to be cubed. As none of it had ever even happened, he continued. “You know we share him. After he eats he’ll come off the IV. Then he gets to choose… Like we agreed.” 

The statement held a question in it that Trip understood. Even if the idea of Virus hogging Sly to himself made his blood boil, the younger man knew that it wasn’t how the situation really was. They were both perhaps more possessive over the man than they had thought they would be, but that didn’t mean Virus was trying to keep Sly from him. It was simply… a matter of circumstance. After all, Trip knew Sly’s nature. If things went from aggressive to sexual, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that it was on accident. 

Broad shoulders relaxed some as Trip slouched back against the counter again to watch how Virus’ hands worked methodically. He always was good with a blade. “Right. He chooses.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings:  
> \- explicit dub-con / non-con  
> \- implied knifeplay  
> \- ...going in dry? im not sure what else to call it  
> \- crying during sex  
> \- mentions of DID  
> \- the same mental health issues that have been through the other chapters. just assume that will be in every single chapter  
> \- drug mentions at the end 
> 
> disclaimer: this has become super self indulgent and i can't promise how the schedule for updates will be because im kind of just doing it for myself at this point. who knows it could be finished in a few days. it's also not beta tested or thoroughly edited or double checked for grammar or spelling, sorry

“Sly, are you listening?”

Eyes flickered up from where they had been lowered at the half cleared plate on Sly’s lap. In the past hour he had been bathed, had his hair carefully brushed out, and was given new clothes and the snack that was laid out in front of him. Colorful fruit cut into bite size pieces that were easy to pop into his mouth. It was kind of fun to lick the remaining juice off his fingertips and watch both men focus in on his mouth when he did. Both of them had been coming close to coddling him since he had woken up the second time around. Now, thankfully, they had taken to sitting at the end of the bed and letting him have his space. 

“No.” Sly answered truthfully, and nonchalantly. Logically, he should have been more on his guard around Trip and Virus. He had known them for only a few months. They had come up to him and introduced themselves as fans with an invitation to join their Rib team. Just as he did with the offers from Mizuki and Koujaku, he had declined. Rib wasn’t his favorite game and most teams put way too many stakes onto it. He didn’t need to be messed up with a bunch of posers taking it way too seriously. However, the two freaks had stuck around after that. It wasn’t exactly much of a bother so he hadn’t stopped them. They were kind of weird, and in the months he’d known them he hadn’t learned much about them other than they appeared to be rich and they didn’t have any qualms about getting fucked up and fucking around. So, he didn’t mind them. 

This was the first time he had actually been with them for any prolonged amount of time. Usually they would fuck, then he would beat it and spent the night somewhere else. Being in their apartment felt like of… strange. Like he was intruding. Yet they acted as if  _ they  _ were the guests and he belonged there. Weirdos. 

Virus shifted where he was sat at the end of the bed with his allmate resting it’s head on his lap. It’s pitch black, beady eyes were pinned on Sly in a way that he didn’t really appreciate, but it didn’t scare him much. He’d been around both of the allmates enough to get used to their intimidating size and color. “We asked whose room you would like to stay in for the night?”

“...I’d love to spend it in my own, guys.” Sly pushed the plate off his lap and sat up straighter. “That’s why you took the junk off my arm, right? So I could leave?” 

He watched Trip shrug one of his shoulders in a noncommittal way. Virus had the same air about him as he answered for the two. “You could, but I don’t think it would be the greatest idea. You’ve done quite the number on yourself.” 

“Okay. So I’ll be careful. I’ll even return the clothes if you want.” Although, the clothes were surprisingly comfortable. The shirt was a little baggy, yet still too small to look like it was owned by either of the filled out men before. And the pants weren’t long enough to fit them either… Did they buy them for him? That’d be weird. He tried not to think about it while sliding to the edge of the bed and standing up, testing the waters so he hopefully wouldn’t get dizzy.

Trip and Virus watched him with their clinical gazes as he stretched out. They had done well to get some of Sei’s clothes for him; they fit almost perfectly on Sly’s lanky form. The shirt was a bit too big, but it looked like it was by design with how it was sliding off of one of his pale shoulders. Obviously, they couldn’t let him leave. Not yet, at least. Keeping him close would be detrimental to their long-term plans.

“It’s late, Sly. By the time we got to your house it would be well past midnight.” Virus paced his words carefully to sound as casual as possible. Still, Sly turned to him with an unhappy expression. 

“What do you mean? Where are we?” The questions came rudely from the younger man. 

Trip responded before Virus had the chance. “Platinum Jail.” 

Where Virus had been expecting a look of surprise or anger, there was instead blankness. Sly’s face didn’t give away any of what he was thinking as his mouth formed into a firm line. Platinum Jail. He’d never been there himself, but he’d heard enough to have a vague idea of what it was like on the inside; a manufactured sky of stars so night never ended, parties with the highest end of luxury, and enough entertainment to keep anyone satisfied. Paradise for the rich and elite. It made sense that Trip and Virus would live in such a place. It explained the fancy cars and easy attitude of the pair. If he could get out…

“Can I stay with Virus?” Sly amended his former questions with an almost sweet tone of curiosity to his voice. A trained, easy kind of innocence that had made many a man fall into line for him. 

“Are you sure?” It was Virus who asked, even though Trip was the one who moved to cross his arms over his chest and stand. It wasn’t a direct action of annoyance at the choice, but Sly got the idea that it was a result of some kind of disagreement with the choice he made. The air in the room shifted just enough to be noticeable. 

In the semi-tense atmosphere, Sly shrugged it off and nodded. “Yeah. This is your room, right? I like sleeping here.” 

That definitely gained him some sort of points on Virus’ side. His small smile seemed more pleased than normal, while Trip seemed even more miffed from it. It was kind of amusing, in a weird way. Affecting either of them at all was a miracle in and of itself. The relationship the two had was incomprehensible to Sly yet seeing the two not agreeing on something or not wearing the same matching expressions was exciting in a way. Toying with them felt good. 

“Maybe I can come over again and spend the night with you, Trip.” The words slid off of Sly’s tongue sweet as honey as he walked closer, placing a hand on Trip’s chest and smirking up at him. Those blank blue eyes met Sly’s, and the blue haired man watched as his lips stretched into a grin. 

A big, warm hand came to settle on his waist, and Trip inwardly groaned at the feeling of Sly’s figure under his touch. Even through the shirt, it was so petite and slim. It was probably due to an awful diet and the on-going abuse of the drugs, but it fed into the power trip all the same. He could have the man under him within second if he really wanted to. Leaning down to match Sly’s height, the blonde let his lips drag over Sly’s as he spoke. “I want that as a promise.” 

Having Trip get physical was nothing new. Sly matched the grin and nodded, making sure to keep a small amount of space between them where they stood. “Promise.”

Off to the side Virus cleared his throat and both heads turned to look at him. He had moved Hersha back onto the bed and stood to pick up the plate before any mess could be made. “There will be lots of time for that. Goodnight, Trip.” 

It seemed both Sly and Virus expected a less than happy remark. It never came, though. Trip removed his hand and stepped back, nodding and addressing both of them. “Goodnight, Virus. Sly.” 

Sly didn’t miss it when the two look alikes shared a look. It set him a bit at ease even if he knew how the two worked. Whatever secrets they shared, it was strictly between them. More often than not Sly had seen them communicate like that; with just a look they could talk to each other more than Sly would ever understand. Trip left the room without any further issue and with the plate set down somewhere safe, Virus walked back to the door to close it. When he turned back around he was undoing the cuffs of his dress shirt. 

“Are you still hungry at all? I could find you some sleepwear if you’d like.” Virus fussed over the details while unbuttoning the length of buttons on the shirt. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind if Hersha joins us. I think he likes you. He’s taken to staying in bed with you these last two days.”

If Sly wanted to successfully get out of here, he knew he would have to suck up. Getting what you wanted sucked sometimes - both literally and figuratively, from his experience. While the idea of laying in bed with the snake, and his untrustworthy allmate, wasn’t pleasant, he could deal with it. Sly would be lying if he had said he’d never found the man attractive before. He’d been on the floor on his knees in front of him before, so it wasn’t exactly a secret either. The little transgression from before still weighed on his mind, though.

Virus could kill him. Could, and most likely would if he actually had the interest in it. As of right then, it didn’t seem like either of them had the motive to. They were toying with him and playing nice. Who knew if that would change once Sly tried to get away. And… who knew if Sly wouldn’t let it happen? There was no use lying to himself. He had liked it. The rush of feeling his life in Virus’ hands had gotten him off just as much as the lightheaded feeling had. He hated to say that Virus was right, but at that moment, all of the pain of living and dealing with the shit in his head - it had disappeared. There hadn’t been a headache to speak of in the past few hours. The unease flowed in waves from Aoba, but that didn’t really matter. Sly was confident that he had the situation under control. Everything felt clearer after having Virus’ hands on him. It should have scared him. It only made him confused, and borderline horny whenever he thought on it too much. 

Looking back at Virus, the shorter of the two blondes was looking at him from the opposite side of the bed. The covers had been drawn down and Virus’ belt was undone, his shirt open and  hanging attractively on his form. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Sly shrugged his shoulders again. His hands were slightly shaky as he reached down to lose his pants around his ankles. They were discarded carelessly on the floor as he crawled back up onto the bed in just the shirt and his boxers. The softness of the sheets hit him again in a pleasant realization as he sat on his knees and spread his legs out casually. Virus’ eyes never left his face, though. Where Trip would have hungrily taken in the view, Virus merely nodded and continued to undress. 

Something inside of Sly hated that the simple gesture hadn’t grabbed Virus’ attention. It was a tactic to get what he wanted, but… more than that. Hunger pulled at him as he looked over Virus’ pale, muscular torso framed by the white cotton. A hand came up to feel over where he knew the bruises had blossomed on his neck. Want coiled in his stomach as he thought about the way it had been; no frills, no hesitation, Virus had seemed completely unaffected by how he took the life into his own hands. Cool dominance without any of the pretense most guys took when Sly asked them to really give it to him. It was  _ intoxicating.  _

The expanse of bed between them was crossed on hands and knees. The skin beneath his fingers was firm and warm when Sly pressed his hands firmly on either side above Virus’ hips. The feeling of muscle under his hands pleased him far more than he could ever say, and when he looked up, Virus was wearing the same pleased smile as he had when Sly had asked to stay with him for the night. 

“Bold of you, Sly. I thought you would have had enough fun this afternoon.” The teasing comment came with the full extent of Virus’ attention given to the needy man sat on the bed in front of him. Reverent fingers traced their way up his sides to his ribs under the thin cotton.

“I thought you knew me better than that,” Sly smirked and scooted even closer to the edge of the bed. “No such thing as enough fun.”

Making sure that Virus’ eyes were on him, pink tinted lips parted for Sly to lean in and kiss at the toned chest before him. The flesh was warm and smooth under his tongue and lips, and when he pulled on Virus’ sides to tug him closer he was allowed it. There was no verbal response, but that was fine. Given the allowance to explore with his mouth was more than enough to please Sly for the time being. 

Likewise, Virus was just as pleased with the situation. Before, it had been all fight. There was nothing wrong with that, of course, but seeing Sly on his knees, eager and needy for the attention was a nice sight. Remembering the way that head of blue hair had bobbed along with lips around his cock, messy and lazy in his inebriated state, made arousal bubble up in the pit of his stomach. It was almost the same view as the one before him. Almost. Now, Sly was in his bed and all his for the rest of the night. 

A hand came to rest on the top of Sly’s hair as gently as he could manage. Though, when there was no clear response from the man it wasn’t as satisfying as Virus would have thought. The mouth on his skin continued, without sound or flinch. Distracted, most likely. That wouldn’t do. The touch that had been so carefully executed changed from gentle to demanding in a split second. His fingers curled into the shorter blue locks at the top of Sly’s head, and he forcefully pulled him back by a few inches.

The result came immediately by way of Sly’s face twisting in pain. The corresponding moan didn’t match the expression at all, yet it made it that much better. Sly’s cheeks blushed a soft pink color and his eyes roamed up Virus’ figure to rest on his face. The hold wasn’t released, instead it was used to guide Sly further back onto the bed so Virus could climb up to join him. It was clear to see that Sly was waiting. Waiting for direction, or for something more to happen. Waiting for Virus to lead, and luckily, he took up the position more than willingly. 

“It took you hardly a few minutes alone to start making a slut of yourself. That has to be a new record for you, Sly.” Virus made sure the words were sugary sweet while twisting his wrist to tighten the hold in Sly’s hair. The cry was sharp as he pulled so closely to the scalp, and seeing the tears already start to well up in those pretty eyes brought on a smirk. It was so easy to hurt him like this. 

“Tch,” Sly grit his teeth and grinned up through the pain, not fighting but still snarky even in the submissive state. “Don’t act like you don’t like it. This must be a wet dream for you.”

He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the words. They were probably meant to be cruel or sarcastic, not to come so close to the truth. “You have no idea.”

Much like he had in the alleyway outback behind the club, Virus took Sly’s lips into a kiss before any more stupid remarks could be made. Just like the time before, Sly melted right into it. The hands at his waist scrambled up so lanky arms could find their way around his neck and pull them closer. Their fronts pressed together and Virus noted the way that Sly’s hands trembled in the short hair at the back of his neck. Achieving the same result without the same means as before stroked Virus’ ego, but he knew part of the desperation was coming from the withdrawals now. The long sleep and fluids had dealt with most of the flu-like symptoms of it. Now it would be all cravings and mood changes. 

Though… Virus doubted that this was only a moodswing. No one was constantly whoring themselves out just for a chance at an adrenaline high to ease withdrawal symptoms. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Sly so thirsty for sex and attention, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

It hardly look half a minute before Sly’s tongue was practically at the back of his throat and his erection was pressed to Virus’ thigh insistently. Pushing his leg up between both of Sly’s rewarded him with a whining moan muffled by their kiss. Sly managed to grind himself up against the thigh once, twice, before his hair was released and he was bodily pushed down onto the bed. He bounced back up when his back hit, and if Virus didn’t know better he might have thought Sly laughed about it. 

“Does that get you off? Throwing me around? I thought Trip was the musclehead.” Sly smirked, showing off his canines. 

Virus didn’t dignify the ridiculous comments with a response. He found his place between Sly’s legs and reached a hand down to grab onto Sly’s erection through the fabric of the boxer briefs they had given to him to replace the ones in the laundry. He left no space for any question - all rough, tight grip around the length that pulsed in his hand. It probably would have been seen as uncomfortable to anyone else, but Sly bucked into the touch as if on command. 

“Okay…O-okay so you don’t like dirty talk.” Sly took in a shaky breath that made Virus smile as he started to stroke through the cotton. It was dry and rough, but he knew that didn’t matter to the man writhing to his touches. 

“I like dirty talk. But that,” Virus shook his head as if disappointed. “That isn’t good dirty talk.”

“Hey! I’m good at dirty talk!” Sly barked. The offense he took at the offhand insult was clear. 

Sly’s past experience was undeniable. He’d made almost a name for himself from his sleeping around. Almost as big of a name as his Rhyme playing had made for him. Unfortunately, Virus knew the truth behind the magic of the supposed ‘dirty talk’, and it would never hope to work on either him, or Trip. Well… maybe the dirty talk would work on Trip, but not for the same reasons as it worked on everyone else. 

It was all too easy to grab the elastic waistband and pull down the underwear so Sly’s cock laid bear on his skin. Flushed tip and all, out on display with the shirt rode up past Sly’s belly button and his hair fallen around his head like an electric blue halo against the black sheets. Beautiful. 

He moved enough out of the way to get the briefs completely off, then leaned in closer, body overtop of Sly’s and lips close to touching his ear. “No one is good at dirty talk once they’re getting fucked senseless, but it would be cute to see you try, Blue.”  

The effect was everything Virus had hoped for. Sly’s light blush went from pink to dark red as he turned his face away to push it into the blankets. Both his hands clasped onto Virus’ shirt where it was hanging off of him between them. 

“I don’t think so.” He took firm hold of Sly’s wrists and tugged them free of the shirt. “Touch yourself.”

Below him, the younger man froze and tried to pull his hands free of the hold. “What?”

“Touch yourself. I want to see you.” The request was easy enough to understand, yet as Virus leaned back on his knees Sly tried to follow him. A hand on the middle of his chest effortlessly pushed him back into laying down. Big yellow eyes bore into him for the seconds it took Sly to understand that he actually meant it. 

Something was muttered under Sly’s breath and he made a point of over exaggerating the roll of his eyes so Virus would see it for sure. “You’re a lazy fuck, you know that?”

“Don’t argue.” The attention shifted from Sly to somewhere to the side of the bed. The sound of a drawer opening followed and annoyed Sly further. 

“Not arguing.” A hand moved down to curl around his neglected cock, but it was lackluster compared to how Virus had grabbed and handled him however he pleased. The wetness at his tip was gathered on his fingers and used to make the slide just a little bit more comfortable. In a one handed effort, Sly started to try and pull his shirt off as well. 

“What are you doing?”

Sly stopped struggling with the shirt to look up, and regretted it instantly. Or… Maybe. The first thing he noticed was the knife. The second was the fact that Virus’ belt was missing, and his neatly cut cock was jutting out from the zipper of his pants with a wet shine to it. There was no way that Sly could keep the hunger out of his gaze as he took it in - the menacing stance, the glare of the knife on the light overhead, Virus’ cool demeanor as he apparently had been watching Sly make an idiot of himself with the shirt. 

“Nothing.” Sly said indignantly. He averted his eyes and moved both hands to take the shirt off properly. He reveled in the way that Virus watched in distaste as the shirt was thrown off the bed across the room. 

Leave it to Sly to be faced with a knife and still manage to be disrespectful. At the very least, the offending article of clothes was gone and left Sly’s chest just as bare as the rest of him. Virus could see it… A soft pink line of scarring down the center of that chest, and a matching line right across the space between where his hip bones jutted out. A quarter… No, half an inch thick. It would take time to heal, but it would look gorgeous against Sly’s complexion. He would probably be cute under the right dose of anesthetic; out of his mind but not totally knocked out. Just enough to feel every second of it and not scream about it. 

The daydream had his dick throb and jump up where it hung in the air, and instantly Sly’s attention narrowed in on it. A huff of a laugh escaped Virus under his breath. “Spread your legs again.” 

The command was eagerly obeyed. Sly spread himself out for the blonde and took himself back in hand, each stroke too sloppy and careless for Virus’ taste. He moved closer once more until his cock laid over the soft, smooth skin of Sly’s balls and he could properly reach every bit of the man. 

“You grabbed lube, right?” Sly questioned from where he was looking up, waiting on the next move. 

“No.” Virus spoke as if confused by the question. Inwardly, he was eating up the look of shock on Sly’s face that bordered on disturbance. It was a bit of a surprise that he had never done anything dry, but then again, most people wouldn’t be stupid enough to make it a purposeful decision. 

Sly’s hips shifted over the sheets to try and get further from where they were slotted together. His blush stayed even as his expression changed to one verging on fear. “I can do it myself. Just toss me the bottle, okay?”

There was no pretending to even consider the proposal. Giving him false hope seemed a little too cruel. Both hands reached to take hold of Sly’s thighs and pull him back, the cold metal of the knife’s handle against his skin shocking a cute sound from him. It looked like Sly wanted to say something, but the babbling only started once Virus moved so his slick length dragged off of Sly’s and fell into place against the plush cheeks of his ass. Frotting up against the soft, giving flesh was satisfying enough. With the added begging starting to become manic as he did, it was heavenly. 

This was what Sly wanted, he knew. It was what Sly needed. 

As soon as the empty hand left Sly’s thigh, he knew he was fucked. Even with his fingers pulling at Virus’ hair as best as they could, and his legs trying to resist the hold on them. Feeling when the hot head of Virus’ cock pressed to his unprepared rim was the most warning he got before the forceful pushing started. 

“Stop! You’re fucking  _ insane! _ ” Sly purposely clenched down to make it more difficult for the intrusion to fit past the tense ring of muscle keeping it at bay. It already hurt to have it so insistently pushing against it. He didn’t want to even think about how it would feel to actually have it inside. 

And Virus, the asshole, practically cooed at him from above. “It will be easier if you relax, Sly.”

“Shut UP!” He yelled in retaliation. His nails dug into Virus’ neck as deep as they could go, too blunt to do as much damage as he wanted them to. There was no way he was going to be able to fight this, and deep down he knew it. He was too weak still, and even at his best he might not be able to fight against Virus. He had thought choosing the smaller of the two would be the best way to go about it, but he had been so, so wrong. 

“Almost there…” Virus grunted in effort at the fight that Sly was putting up against him. 

There was a moments more resistance before Sly felt the give, and felt his entrance flutter to try and stop the inevitable. If he had thought anything before had been painful, nothing could even compare to the way it felt as Virus pushed into him. A scream ripped from his throat and his insides clenched. The natural response on made it worse, searing pain spreading through Sly’s ass. 

“Relax. You’re making this worse. Let it happen.” Faintly, he recognized Virus trying to talk to him, but it didn’t matter enough to actually listen to. Everything felt like it was on fire, and his head was swimming with the unbearable pain. He couldn’t think of anything else. It felt so  _ good. _

Head tipped back, thighs shaking violently, he pushed up off the bed with his feet planted firmly, and instantly the movement had the pain sparking back up. Whatever chastisement he earned from Virus was ignored, even if both of the strong hands returned to his thighs to keep him in place. It wasn’t exactly what  Virus had expected, but really, he should have. Sly’s depravity reached levels that even he wasn’t expecting. Sly was enjoying this, even after begging for it not to happen. 

The fit was tight enough to be slightly uncomfortable around Virus’ cock, and it made it that much harder to control himself and not start too quickly. Hurting Sly was one thing, but they still had to be careful. He’d been careful to be liberal with the use of the lubricant on himself to make up for the lack of preparation. The wait wasn’t ideal, but it was necessary.

After a length of time without any movement Sly’s breath finally calmed down from it’s panicked gasps. Virus had foregone the knife to use both hands to feel up the creamy skin of his chest while he calmed down. The hands in his hair were still tight, but no longer violent as Sly took in measured breaths. 

“Virus…” Sly whispered out pathetically. His voice was thin and strained, and Virus felt the effect in his heart as a physical drop of his stomach. “Move. M-move, now.” 

It was impossible not to after that. Thoughts of caution about the situation left in favor of taking in how Sly was falling apart under him. It was a slow pull out until only the tip was snugly fit inside of him, and as soon as he thrust back in he got the reaction all over again. It was in no way rough or hard, but Sly writhed as if he was being cut open from the inside. His scream filled the room, and both of his arms tightened their hold on Virus’ neck until he was pulled down to the point of his nose brushing Sly’s jaw. Almost intimate, if not for how a sob followed, shaking through Sly’s form violently. 

No words were going to help, so Virus didn’t try. The pace that he set was the softest fuck he’d had in… years, probably. Until Sly loosened up to allow the penetration properly, it was all Virus would allow them. It was enough, anyways, if the way Sly’s ass spasmed and clenched around him said anything about it. Not to mention the constant whines and cries.

After another particularly harsh sob Virus decided to take some pity on him. An arm made it between the bed and Sly’s back to hold around him tightly and keep him steady. It seemed to calm some of the reactions, as well as make it easier to keep moving inside of him as the glide got less difficult. His face was still kept pretty close to Sly’s neck - enough to see the deep reds and purples that had bloomed into large bruises there. Adding more couldn’t hurt. His lips latched onto the skin above Sly’s pulse to produce the smallest of mewls. Within moments there were several new marks beginning to show, each gaining a new sound from Sly.

Virus was slowly but surely losing his cool. In an attempt to reel himself back into control, he grabbed tighter to Sly and slowed the rocking of his hips even further. “Does it hurt?”

Soft, panting breaths laced with little hiccups met his ears. Sly’s voice was small, so much smaller than the usual cocky, confident gain he had. “Yes… I-It hurts. Don’t stop.”

A breathless grin came across Virus’ face at the answer. So maybe he was going to blow this sooner than planned, but in the end, it didn’t matter much. It was all working out in his, and in  _ their  _ favor. Letting himself go in the process wouldn’t hurt it any. 

Just as Sly asked so nicely, it didn’t stop. The thrust of Virus’ hips eased back to the pace they had, then even faster. From the very beginning Sly had known he wasn’t going to last long. Once his body had grown accustomed to the intrusion, and the pain had changed to the steady rhythm of the deep stabs to his gut, he had been a lost cause. His thoughts deadlined, as did the hell of a racket the other in his head was making about it all. Everything went from hectic to blissful as Virus delivered each hit of pained pleasure, and all the while Sly held onto him like a lifeline. 

A particularly deep thrust was what finally pushed him past the barrier keeping him from the edge. It was difficult, but he actually managed to squirm in the hold Virus had on him. His cock pinned between their bodies throbbed at the constant stimulation it was getting from rubbing up against Virus’ torso with sticky tracks of pre cum, each jostle drawing him closer and closer. Useless words stuttered over his tongue as he tried to warn. Virus knew, could feel the way Sly’s entrance pulsed hotly around his cock, and purposely kept himself steady to hit the bundle of nerves he knew had Sly about to come undone for him. 

Electric gratification coursed through him when Virus pressed into his prostate again. Anything more and it would have been too much, but Sly was already too far gone to care. His release spilled between them and slicked the rub against Virus’ body. In his own pleasure he missed the way that Virus groaned at the tight clench of Sly’s body around him, milking him insistently. If not for his self control he would have lost it then and there with the gorgeous wails of ecstasy coming from the younger man. 

The cries faded into exhausted, overstimulated moans until Virus finally stilled. Both panted, but while Virus was struggling to keep himself from continuing to take Sly, Sly was just barely able to keep himself from passing out. A dull, throbbing pain had overtaken his lower half where he was still stuffed full, legs splayed on either side of Virus’ hips. Every inch of him felt too heavy, or too sore, to stay awake. 

“That… was good.” The words lacked the conviction or strength to properly express how good it actually was, but Virus supposed it was the most Sly could actually accomplish after having been fucked so thoroughly. If he was allowed, he was sure Sly would have happily fallen asleep still on his dick. 

It wasn’t something Virus was about to allow, though. 

Taking his arm out from under Sly, he let the man sink back into the bed with his arms laid limply over his head. It would be easier that way. Both his hands took hold of his slender hips to pull him to where he wanted him: flush against his own hips, with his cock buried in him to the hilt. The motion had Sly’s eyes flying open with a shocked gasp. 

The pleased grin stayed on Virus’ face as he spoke softly. “Sorry, no time for sleeping. We aren’t done yet, Blue.” 

 

* * *

 

“He needs another fix soon.” Virus declared upon coming into the kitchen.

Trip scoffed. “Good morning to you, too.” 

The kitchen was filled with the smell of sweet smelling syrup and the thick smell of coffee from the machine. Trip stood in front of the stove with french toast slices cooking on a pan, fresh fruit already arranged on a plate that awaited the sugary breakfast. Virus avoided it completely to go right for the coffee machine to fill a mug instead. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to feed him that.” As his mug filled under the nozzle of the machine, Virus looked over to Trip.

The man looked over his shoulder with a brow raised. “You were just saying we need to get him drugs, but I can’t let him have french toast?”

“No.” 

“...Okay. Normal toast then.” Keeping looking over his shoulder, Trip waited until Virus nodded to look back at his food on the stove. “Heard him last night. How bad?”

When the last drip of coffee made it into the mug it was picked up and both of Virus’ hands curled around the warm ceramic. Even standing in the middle of the kitchen in his underwear, the apartment wasn’t cold. It never was. It was more the principle of the comfort the mug afforded. 

“A few stitches, bruises. Nothing he can’t sleep off. I don’t care if he begs, make sure you finger him first.” Virus spoke almost sleepily. He already knew that if Trip heard, he wouldn’t be patient about laying claim on Sly, too. 

A curious glance was thrown Virus’ way from where Trip was finishing up his plating and moving on to making the simple toast for their plaything. “You didn’t?”

A chuckle was hidden in Virus’ coffee cup as he took a drink. “No.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings:  
> -EXTREMELY explicit drug use  
> \- needles / medical stuff  
> \- panic / anxiety attack   
> \- withdrawal symptoms  
> \- mental abuse / manipulation (trip and virus are assholesTM)  
> \- non-con (sly is absolutely entirely completely Fucked Up when they fuck)  
> \- allmates being a part of sex? idk if thats a warning or not  
> \- actually fluffy and cute stuff inbetween the fucked up stuff
> 
> disclaimer: i have never done hard drugs. i have never injected recreational drugs. but i tried to write it properly. god did i try and my search history now needs to be bleached

Waking up in Virus’ bed was becoming way too familiar for Sly’s comfort. Not that it was a bad feeling - the opposite in fact. It was heavenly. Soft cotton and pillow-y fabric wrapped around him, the weight of the allmate coiled at the end of the bed, no need to worry about being kicked out or woken up by unimpressed relatives… The dream, really. The bed was even empty of any blonde freaks when he awoke around noon. Sore wasn’t even close to the right word to describe how he felt, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Moving set his lower half on fire, and twisting or bending the wrong way made the row of stitches along his lower stomach flare up in pain. He was able to have a hot shower in the bathroom down the hall, and entirely hid the fact that he got off on irritating the fresh wound. He almost managed to avoid getting a medical one-over afterwards. Almost.

What he wasn’t able to achieve was the freedom he wanted. Trying to convince the two resident lunatics to let him leave over breakfast didn’t go nearly as well as he wanted. Every time he tried to come up with an excuse, or a reason why letting him go on his own would be better, they rebuked it. ‘No valid identification to be alone’. ‘No way to get back to the district’. ‘Unsafe’, ‘criminal charges’, ‘too weak to go on his own’. It all sounded like bullshit. Everything had agitated him a thousand times worse, to the point where he had ended up yelling about both their excuses and such little things as Virus’ spoon making too much noise in his coffee mug. 

The only thing that had saved the blonde’s asses from him trying to storm out the door was the agreement that they would take the time to drive him back. They had work to get done anyways, they had said as if it was all some casual thing. Like he had stayed for a sleepover and now they were oh so happy to drop him back off at his house. Virus had seemed more than happy to give him his own clothes back, along with his coil, and escort him out of the building with an arm loosely around his waist.

And that’s how all three had ended up in the car again. How Sly had ended up sitting across Trip’s lap, Virus was still unclear on. Leaving Platinum Jail had gone smoothly, even if Sly still seemed slightly unhappy and sulky about the situation. It was somewhere around the time they had reached the outer limits of the Old Residential District that the two in the backseat had switched from joking back and forth to swapping spit. It was at least better than the aggressive arguing from Sly, even if it meant catching an eyefull of it everytime Virus looked in the rearview mirror.

“Virus is a better kisser than you.” Sly whispered with a cocky grin pressed against Trip’s mouth, quiet enough for just the other to hear. Stroking Virus’ ego wasn’t the point of it, after all. The point was to rile Trip up.

“Yeah?” Trip matched the grin. His hands wandered up along the tight jeans Sly wore where his legs were laid across him. He made his way up until he could slip his hand up under Sly’s shirt until his fingers found the square of gauze taped on Sly’s stomach, thumb digging into the spot. “Did he kiss you while he gave you this?” 

The touches were more than welcomed with soft hums of approval, and Sly couldn’t find it in himself to resent the way that Trip purposely hurt him. After what they had done, and what  _ he  _ had done that morning, it would be too hypocritical to complain. The sting of the pressure on the stitches beneath the bandage filled him up with buzz of arousal just as his own fingers had in the shower. A soft moan was breathed out to Trip’s lips, and the kiss he got in return for it was more than worth the lingering pain on the wound. 

Trip finally had Sly all to himself, and he wasn’t about to waste a minute of it. If it were up to him, he’d already have clothes off and be inside of him, if not for how anal Virus was about keeping the cars clean as possible. It also might not be a good idea if Virus was being truthful about how roughly he had treated Sly the night before. Having someone outside hear him screaming wouldn’t bode well for them. Those little details didn’t stop him from getting his hands on Sly, though. 

Bruised skin heated under his hands where they took place under Sly’s clothes. Actually feeling the way ribs contracted and expanded with the little hitches in the man’s breath was so much better than just hearing it. He could practically detect where the bruises and cuts were just from the reaction he got from touching certain places. 

“Yeah… He did.” Sly tried to keep up with the slick dirty talk even though he was coming unravelled quickly from the touches. It boosted Trip’s pride to see how kisses and touches alone could have Sly squirming and squeezing his legs together to try and hide the arousal growing by the minute. 

“Did you scream for him, Sly? Did he make you cry? It’s a good look on you. Sick and begging, bleeding…” Watching those cute cheeks start to glow in cranky embarrassment satisfied something deep inside Trip. From what he had heard through the walls, he could imagine how Virus had laid him out and flayed him open - maybe figuratively, maybe literally. It didn’t feel like he had done anything drastic, but it would be hard to tell until he had Sly naked and on display completely. 

A strong hand moved down once more to palm down against the hardness in Sly’s jeans with crude force. The arch of his delicate spine played out so nicely beneath the fingers of his opposite hand, each note of Sly’s moan committed to memory. Trip’s mind wandered over just how many different sounds he could pull from those sweet lips as he stole another biting kiss. 

“We’re here.” Virus announced in barely contained amusement masked by monotone. 

Sly pulled back so he could look to the front to Virus. It gave Trip a nice view of his profile, still flushed and breathing quicker than normal, lips red and full from kissing. Temptation at it’s finest, truly. When he spoke his lips moved and held Trip’s attention too much to really listen to the words they were forming. 

The ride had been long - longer than Sly had anticipated, but then again, he had never been to Platinum Jail and hardly ever went anywhere in cars. The only time he did was with the two rich assholes who insisted on using them. The windows in all of the cars he’d seen them use were tinted so that no one outside could see in, and he could just barely see out of them. Only the windshield could really be seen through properly, and all Sly could make out from it was that they were surrounded by abandoned buildings. “Where are we?”

“Nowhere important. Trip and I have business, then we’ll drive you home.” Virus explained as he cut the engine and pocketed the keys. Unlike the usual trendy clothes they wore, Virus was only in black slacks and a plain white button down and tie. Business… did that mean they were doing stuff to do with their team, Morphine?

A pat to one of his shins alerted Sly to where Trip had started to move his legs to the side and off of the man’s lap. His sneakers hit the carpeted floor of the car and he looked at Trip with a pout. It didn’t seem very fair that both of them had to go and leave him there, especially with the considerably  _ hard  _ problem Trip had caused for him. Yet Trip still reached for the door handle so it would open up like some Star Trek sci-fi shit. 

Virus had already climbed out of the front and closed the door again. When he spoke it was quieter, almost out of earshot. “Make sure you’re clear about where to distribute this time. I would rather not have any more misunderstandings.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Trip answered while stepping out of the car. “Remind me how many grams again?”

Sly’s attention spiked at the wording used. Both Trip and Virus pretended not to notice how Sly leaned forward, both hands on the leather of the seats as he tried to listen closer. 

“Ten. If it sells, then more. Never more than ten at a time.” Virus had his eyes trained down on his coil as if it was more important than anything going on in front of him. Trip joined him at his side and nodded, even though the shorter blonde wasn’t looking. 

Curiosity boiled in Sly’s blood, along with something more. Need. They had to be talking about some kind of drug. He had never actually heard of anything drug related in correspondence with Morphine, but what else could they be talking about? Maybe they just sold on the side, unrelated to their Rib gang. Either way, he had to do something to get in on it. The plan to get out clean in the morning and make his way around Platinum Jail to score hadn’t worked, and the anxiety at getting a chance to have something again was growing fast as the seconds ticked by. Soon enough, within seconds, the door to the car would be closing and he would be left there alone. 

Trip’s hand reached out to push at the top of the door so it would lower down and close. Before it could happen, Sly scrambled to the very edge of the seats. “Wait!”

Both sets of eyes came to rest on him in a way that made his skin absolutely crawl. No way he was about to show that, though. “What are you selling?”

“What are you interested in?” Virus was the one who answered. He tapped his coil off and lowered his arms to his sides. Beside him, Trip leaned on the door where he was still holding it. 

“Anything.” Sly answered too quickly. Eager was an understatement. Both men could see how his muscles trembled under the cravings for what they were taunting in front of him, baiting him with. Like waving a bone before a starving dog. 

On command, Trip and Virus looked to each other with easy smiles. Trip was the one to break the look to glance back down at Sly where he anxiously sat, eyes pleading. It was almost fun to bend over to lower to Sly’s level and talk down to him, his words saccharine. “Are you sure? You messed yourself up pretty bad last time.” 

“Yes! Fuck off with that!” Sly’s knees came up onto the seat so he could sit himself up and look bigger against Trip’s intimidating size. It didn’t work, of course. Not with the child-like upset that was radiating off of him and the way his entire figure screamed anxious. 

To the side, Virus hummed in thought. “We can supply it, of course,” He confirmed and watched the way Sly’s eyes lit up. “But leaving you alone might end up in the same fate as last time. I’d feel better if we were there when you take it.”

That… made sense. Sly always had  _ someone  _ around when he slammed anything. Safety in numbers, after all. Having someone else there was usually more fun, too. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d done drugs with them, though it would be the first time actually doing anything more serious than depressants, amp… Whatever he could get his hands on. Pills were easy, chill. Smoking was easy, chill. Shooting up was something he wasn’t inclined to do with an audience. Even Mizuki, who he trusted with his life, he wouldn’t be comfortable with watching. Having someone around and having someone actually watching,  _ supervising _ made Sly feel seriously uneasy. But…

“Yeah. Okay, that’s fine.” He agreed after a second’s hesitation. 

“Give us twenty minutes. We’ll get what you want.” Trip said. He stood up straighter and kept his eyes on Sly’s, cute and unsettled, while the door slowly eased closed. Virus reached into his pocket and the cars lights blinked twice to signal it’s locked state before they both turned their backs on it to start towards one of the several nondescript buildings they used for meetings. 

“Five thousand yen says he won’t last.” Virus remarked casually.

Trip shook his head and pulled the unmarked, rusted metal door open for them once they reached the warehouse. “Can’t bet if we both agree on the outcome.”

“True.” An amused smirk crossed Virus’ lips while it was still just the two of them. Only once they were through the door and coming into view of the handful of men in dark hoodies did he fall into an impassive expression again. 

 

* * *

 

 

Twenty minutes… It had to have been more than twenty minutes since the two had left. Twenty minutes wasn’t that long. One episode of a show… Ten minutes doubled… It could be rationalized. It was all fine. After all, Trip and Virus would be back. It was their car, a very fancy car that they wouldn’t just leave on the side of a road somewhere with him in the back. 

No matter what Aoba said. They would be back. They had been the ones to pick him up and make sure he wouldn’t die on the side of the road somewhere, so why would they leave him for dead now? That was what was happening, right? Sly was having a heart attack; his head was beating too quickly and too loudly in his rib cage where his hand was grasping at the front of his shirt. It was way too hot, or maybe too cold… He couldn’t decide, or even think straight with the pussy bitch in his head talking too loud and too fast and too  _ annoying. _ This  _ wasn’t _ Sly’s fault. They said they would be back, and they would be. They  _ had  _ to be back.

Sly needed them to come back and needed them to have everything they had promised him. He needed the sting and the rush, and the blissful ignorance that always came right after. 

His coil had lit up more than a few times in the last… however long it was. He hadn’t bothered to check the time, and after the fifth message that wasn’t from either Trip or Virus he had stopped checking the damn thing altogether. Seeing Koujaku trying to snoop into his business wasn’t anything he wanted to deal with. Mizuki was a different story, but Mizuki couldn’t help him right now. He was stuck, locked in a luxury sports car, dying while those two assholes… did what? Jerked each other off? 

Probably. They had enough in the spank bank from the last few days to last them a while. 

Pain blossomed as soon as Sly grabbed and yanked the long hair on either side of his head. The white hot agony worked to block out the know it all voice for a good, long while, but not long enough. Nothing ever worked as well as he wanted it to. The short relief cost him the salty tears that stained his face as he tipped his head back against the seat. The residual headache was nice, in theory, if not for how it made the complaining even louder. Nothing would ever please the bastard. 

It didn’t matter. This was it, this was how he was going to go. The tightness in his chest would crush him from the inside out and Trip and Virus would find him, still sitting there with his corpse filling the car with dead person stench. Maybe that would be better. Maybe-

The semi-darkness of the car was cut with a hiss of sound and a strip of sunlight that grew as the door opened. 

“Sorry for the wait, got caught u-” Trip’s deep, even voice came and his form blocked some of the light that assaulted Sly’s sore eyes. It didn’t matter, though. Within seconds his face was pushed into Trip’s shoulder where the thick black fabric of his hoodie blocked his vision entirely. Both arms wrapped around his broad chest to claw fingers into his back desperately, managing to pull himself right up against Trip. 

With the force of Sly’s (very light) weight against him, Trip took hold of the slender waist and raised a knee to rest on the seat, half inside the car and half standing outside of it. Having Sly quite literally throw himself at him was, needless to say, very flattering. He may not be as good with words or praise as Virus, but he was sure his physical approach could still suit the ‘savior’ act they had set up. 

Crawling into the car properly with Sly in his lap was near effortless, as was keeping him flush against his chest as he shook through what he could only guess was an anxiety attack of massive proportions. Exactly as they had planned for. Outside, Virus had gotten the door closed after Trip and went around the back to pop the trunk, pulling the supply that was already planted. It was deposited into the driver’s side seat when Virus slid into the driver’s seat. Looking up from Sly, their eyes met. From there Virus’ attention went to the briefcase. 

“Sly, how much do you usually take?” Virus’ passive, mellow voice came to match where Trip had started to rub a wide hand along Sly’s back. 

Trip looked down to where their burnout was shaking, his pink tinted bottom lip trembling. No answer was coming from him, and both of them knew it. The question was for show; with the purple latex gloves on his hands, Virus was already starting to prepare everything without the need for any actual answers. They probably knew what was going into Sly’s body for the last few months better than he did. 

“Find somewhere for me?” Virus spoke quiet and distractedly, still polite even as his focus was elsewhere. 

The request itself was not as nice as it was worded, however. Getting Sly to break the deathgrip around him was a new kind of hell, let alone getting off the stupid half jacket he chose to wear. Sly was thoroughly convinced that any space between them might actually mean Trip would disappear again to… where had he gone? It was hard to think. Disorientation was a good look on him, at least. Once the jacket was off, Trip ignored every whine and compliant to run his thumb up over the underside of Sly’s arms. 

“Median cubital. Right arm. It should work.” Trip finally let Sly cling to him again and relished in the feeling of slender fingers in the back of his hair. 

“Really?” Virus’ voice was thick with less than amused disbelief. Yet he didn’t look up to check, his eyes staying downcast. 

“Shoot me if I’m wrong.” He deadpanned the reply. Both arms moved back to keeping Sly up against his chest. “If he doesn’t let us turn him around?”

Finally, Virus turned with the needle in one hand and tossed the length of rubber to Trip with the other. Everything about him screamed confidence about the situation. “He will. Use your words first, then whatever it takes.”

It would have been easier if Virus had been the one to take up holding Sly, since he was much better at convincing, but that would have come with it’s own problems. If Sly became too disoriented and fought them, it would be Trip who would be better at holding him steady enough, and Virus who was experienced enough to properly administer things. There wasn’t enough trust in the world to make them think there wasn’t the slightest chance that Sly would become resistant. 

Trip almost couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Words. He could do that. One hand skimmed up along Sly’s back to clasp at the base of his neck under his hair, and Trip tilted his head to whisper against the shell of Sly’s ear where his cheek was resting on the shoulder of his sweater. “Sly, do you want this to stop? Do you want us to fix it?” 

He took a page out of Virus’ book of tricks, having seen it more than enough times to know that Sly reacted to it. It was better than going in winging it, at least. It didn’t exactly spring Sly into action, but it was enough to grab his attention. 

It was exactly what he wanted. He wanted this all to be over; for the fighting to stop, for it all to go dark and hazy again, so he could just drift without worrying about any of it. He wanted to drown in the fabric softener scent of Trip’s sweater, and the sound of both of them talking without actually putting any thought into what they were saying. Even if the other fought against it, Sly wanted to be back in Virus’ bed with the covers up to his nose and the world coming in and out of focus. No worrying about where he was or where he would end up - he wanted to be safe there again. So, he nodded, his cheek rubbing up against the black fabric. 

Had Sly always been so agreeable? No. Virus knew it wouldn’t last either, but Trip liked it while it lasted. “I’m gonna move you. I’ll be right here.”

Taking hold of Sly’s waist, a whine broke out of his throat as Trip started to pull his face away and turn him around on his lap. It was hard not to wonder if Sly had ever actually had any withdrawals before… Or if he had been truly, one hundred percent clean for any amount of time in the past months. It was entirely possible that he had never had enough time between highs to actually feel any of these symptoms before. His mental health record was a shitshow, so it was surprise that this was hitting him hard. Flushing his system was surely good for him, just as it would be good for him to keep clean and just ride through it. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in accordance to plans. 

It took a lot of rearranging and stopping Sly from trying to turn back around multiple times for Trip to finally have him sat nicely with the right arm out, facing up. The rubber was tied on his arm quickly, and Virus took up place between the two front seats. His free hand moved to feel and tap over the vein Trip had said with a close, critical eye. There was no argue or complaint about the selection, to Trip’s satisfaction. 

“Keep him held.” Virus directed sharply, and in almost the same breath he lowered his voice as he readied the needle above the vein. “Stay still. I won’t be very happy if you waste this, Blue. Be good…” 

Trip’s arms sat secure around Sly’s middle as well as his other arm. His legs weren’t exactly taken account of, but if all went well it wouldn’t matter. If it didn’t, it could be dealt with fairly quickly. The initial push of the needle into Sly’s arm didn’t bring much of a reaction, but as soon as Virus pushed on the plunger, his head whipped back against Trip’s shoulder with a sharp intake of breath, eyes shut tight. 

“Shit!” The curse was high and whiny, Sly’s body pushing back against Trip’s in a way that the blonde couldn’t say was entirely unpleasant. His arm stayed tight in Virus’ grip, and as the contents were shot into his body he strained in what looked like discomfort. His arm felt like it was on fire, burning up along the length of it until it reached his shoulder. 

“Hold it.” Virus didn’t wait to see if Trip would actually follow directions before removing his free hand from Sly’s arm and reaching for the gauze waiting in the case on the passenger seat. 

Like a well oiled machine, Trip took hold and Virus pulled the needle out, instantly pressing down with more than enough pressure to make sure it wouldn’t bruise too badly. One hand occupied, he took care of the needle and the mess of supplies in the seat, while on Trip’s lap Sly slowly, slowly started to melt back. The hand on his stomach had started to stroke lazy circles over the skin showing and the burn was receding until it was hardly noticeable in comparison to the relief washing over him as the effects settled in. 

“Easy. There you go…” Trip muttered and took up the job of keeping the gauze pressed to the inside of Sly’s arm, guiding his arm to rest back down on his lap. It hardly took a few seconds for Sly to start trying to turn around again, grabbing at Trip with his other, now free arm. During the time Virus took to clean everything up Sly became completely meldable, to the point where Trip could pull him this way and that to get them settled in the back seat and the most he would get would be a sigh or soft complaint. 

Virus moved the case from the front seat to the foot space on the passenger side, giving the two in the back a few more moments to get settled before interrupting. “Sly?”

“Yeah?” The head of blue hair didn’t look up, lips moving against Trips chest. He was floating on cloud nine with the dose and purity of what the two had given him, as compared to the usual lower grade bullshit Sly would have with whatever they would carefully make sure ended up in his system. 

An almost tender smile touched at Virus’ features. It was hard not to feel anything when they had Sly eating right out of the hands, or more specifically, dozing in their laps on possibly the purist high of his life. “Do you want us to take you home?”

Home… Somewhere, deep down and far off, the answer was yes. Not his answer, though. The other’s answer. It wasn’t as loud now, and effortlessly ignored in favor of listening to the velvet quality of Virus’ voice. Sly’s head shook and his brain felt like it was floating inside his head. “Don’t like it there.”

“Want to go back to our place?” Trip asked, a hand moving to test the waters and run through the back of Sly’s hair. It was just slightly tangled from all the panic and struggle, so he went into the movement cautiously. But just as it should have, the higher dose of morphine killed all the pain that would have resulted from the touch. Sly reminded him of a cat with the way he leaned into it.

“Yeah.” He sighed. 

“Anything you want, Sly.” Trip cradled Sly in his arms, chin resting atop his head.

Virus turned back to sit properly at the wheel, adjusting his tie and the rearview mirror in his ritualistic way. The car was silent as it started up, and as it pulled from the side of the road to head back they way they had came. It could have been seen as a waste of a trip. It wouldn’t have been hard to get the sales orchestrated from within the walls of the Jail, but the more important aspect was the show. The illusion was flawlessly continued - Sly had gotten what he wanted, saved again by the pair that went to such great lengths to keep him.

 

* * *

 

One could argue that Sly was too spoiled for his own good. Held the entire ride home, carried inside and even given Trip’s sweater when he mentioned being cold in passing… Then being set down on Trip’s bed, covered and surrounded by the world’s record of unnecessary amounts of pillows. The sweater dwarfed his form in its entirety and Sly was able to actually pull his knees up and into the huge sweater. Something which was funny as fuck at that moment in time. How the fuck was Trip so huge?

Virus had given a look when Trip had turned down the invitation to dinner in order to indulge their pet further. Because really, that seemed like a good way to approach it. Sly was theirs: wrapped around their fingers. It would be at least five or six hours before he returned to his less agreeable, venomous ways, and Trip had every intention to take advantage of that. In six hours, it wouldn’t matter. Sly would be out cold if he had anything to do with it. 

Walking into the room to see Sly curled up on the bed was cute. Welter was there, sat on the floor with his head resting on the edge of the bed. Probably inching closer to Sly without actually breaking the ‘no lions on the furniture rule’. If Sly had noticed, it didn’t seem to be affecting him much this way or that. Electric yellow eyes turned up to look at Trip with a far away quality to them. 

“Stretching out my sweater?” Trip held both hands in his jean pockets as he strolled forwards to stand at the end of the bed. His gaze could be best described as predatory.

“Maybe.” Sly shrugged his shoulders, too lazy to get up from where he was slouched back into the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed. The fabric was the same as in Virus’ room, only there was so much  _ more _ of it. Virus’ two pillows had nothing on the castle of them Trip kept. 

A soft scoff accompanied Trip’s next words. “You should be more careful with things that aren’t yours, brat.”

The grin that formed on Sly’s lips was sleepy and natural. If he tried hard enough, Trip could imagine the purr of Sly’s attempt to goad him. “What will you do if I don’t?”

“Want to try and see?” Trip smirked. This Sly was fun. Like playing cat and mouse; playing with his food.

It was clear that Sly was faking his contemplation on the matter. Brat, Trip thought again as Sly tapped his finger against his lips, drawing attention there. He would have gagged him if not for how much he loved to hear the way Sly reacted to things. 

After the seconds of pretend thought, Sly maintained the eye contact as he pushed his knees out, stretching the sweater out over them up until a small ‘pop’ of thread breaking came from the movement. Blue eyebrows jumped up with the sound - probably a seam stressed and pushed too far. Probably inconsequential to the integrity of the sweater, but it was the principle of the thing, not the actual amount of damage. 

There was about half a second for Sly to make an attempt at moving before Trip was reaching out and grabbing hold of his ankle. It was as if Sly weighed as much as one of the pillows with how he was dragged right across the bed, the breath knocked out of him. His legs straightened out of the sweater as it rode up to his chest, Sly’s fingers clawing uselessly at the bedding. Usually, with a show of strength like that Trip could have their… associates quivering with fear and begging him not to do anything to them. Now, with his grip still tight on Sly’s ankle and standing overtop of him menacingly, Sly was out of breath for a completely different reason. 

Laughter filled the room, loud and unruly. Trip knew it was easy to make Sly laugh with certain tones and jokes, but this was something else entirely. Like a kid after being manhandled for the fun of it, Sly was losing it. Welter’s ears pinned back to his head in distaste and Trip stared down at Sly dumbfoundedly. It was like he couldn’t even control it when the laughter spilled from him, his cheeks flushing a pretty red from not being able to catch his breath. Little ‘ow’s started to come along with the laughter, no doubt from where Virus had cut him the night before. 

“You think this is funny?” Trip finally found his voice enough to ask.

Trying to reign in the giggles, Sly nodded quickly, his hair becoming a mess around his head where he was squirming on the bed. It hadn’t been his intention, but it was actually comical how Trip could throw him around with such ease. He wasn’t even that  _ small. _ Skinny, maybe, but he was good enough to hold his own in most fist fights, and not on the shorter end of things with a height of 5’9. Surprise and delight came in equal measures when he was dragged to the point of almost being lifted off the bed. 

It was no secret that Trip got off on violence. Sly made jokes about it off and on, but was founded on a lot of truth. Seeing Trip knock out a guy with only a punch had been an eye opening experience - and the way that Trip had fucked his mouth afterwards was even better. Being able to overpower someone physically and inflict pain on them seemed to be something that boiled his blood in the right kind of way. But this seemed to stump him, which only made it harder for Sly to stop laughing. Sly was surprised, but Trip looked like Sly had grown a second head. Which would be about as uncharacteristic as the way he was clutching at his stomach to try and stop himself from laughing. 

Trip had seen him laugh, but never like this. The surprise came at how much Trip  _ liked  _ having Sly lost in giggles like this. It was new, and weird as fuck. Their pet was weird as fuck. 

The hand on his ankle moved so both could grip Sly’s boney hips and pull him the rest of the way to the end of the bed. Sly let his legs fall open almost too easily for Trip to fit between them. The giggles where just fading off, his breath still quick and his chest rising and falling fast. Fingers dipped into the waistband of Sly’s pants, and were forcefully ripped down Sly’s legs. This time, it was met with a moan and Sly’s hips coming up off the bed in a high arch. 

“We’ll see how funny it is.” Trip threatened deeply. The jeans fell to the floor and left Sly in just his socks, boxers, and the sweater. At this point, Trip had no intentions of ever making Sly take it off. Not that he would tell him that. 

Up until then, Sly had been in a nice, sleepy state of mind. The noise in his head had hushed down, and the despair was at an arm’s length away now. Everything in the room had been calm, and quiet with the sound of Welter’s mechanics working whenever he would move. Now, each move stirred a new ache in him from the past day, but hazily. Like it was far off in a dream somewhere. It was easy to lose himself even with Trip staring down at him like he was something to eat. 

“You’re supposed to make me cry, not laugh.” Sly slurred the tease, grinning up at the tall blonde. His hips rolled up and light blimps of pain blossomed up from how the movement stretched the healing skin beneath his bandage. Watching how Sly was clearly enjoying every second of it made Trip want to fuck the stupid look right off of his face.

Pulling Sly’s underwear off resulted in the attractive sight of Sly’s half chub resting on his lean groin, framed by the short, bright blue hair that Trip still found hard to believe even after seeing it a few times. The air in the room was warm enough, yet Sly still shivered once he was out in the open. Laying there in the sweater, with his cock out and the bandage peeking out from his tummy, Sly was… incredibly adorable. Glazed over eyes watched, and widened, as Trip reached to unzip his own pants and pull out his cock with a long stroke over it.

Want pooled at Sly’s hips. His own dick twitched and grew harder where it lay untouched. Every single time he seemed to forget the difference between the two look alikes. Virus sported a mean package, but not anywhere near as thick as Trip had. 

Luckily, it looked like Trip wasn’t going to go about it the same way Virus had. A bottle of lubricant was produced from… somewhere. Trip’s pocket, maybe. Sly wasn’t paying enough attention to anything other than the hand that had started to caress up his hip. A slightly cold, wet chill slid down Sly’s balls and instantly started to soothe the burn that had been at his ass the entire day. The two fingers that moved to massage into the muscle pulled a sigh from Sly’s lips, his face relaxing as Trip watched intently. 

One thing Sly had learned about the two was that Virus was better at talking, and usually more inclined to. Meanwhile Trip was more actions than words. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when there was no warning for two fingers pushing into him. A sharp gasp punctuated the movement. No time was given before Trip fucked the fingers into him, the wet sound of it filling Sly’s ears too loudly. The hand that had been so nicely petting his hips now moved up to pull both Sly’s wrists over his head in a painfully tight hold.

His wrists twisted and turned in the hold, unsure whether to try and get free or not. His hips arched and twisted in every attempt to get away from the fingers prying him open and reworking the sharp pains from yesterday. The morphine did the work to ease it, and it was nowhere near as awful as it had been the night before. The glide was wet enough but Trip’s fingers were thick, stretching him to the point where the old wounds came back to life as if they were new. 

“Welter, come play with us.” Trip smiled pleasantly now that he had Sly how he wanted him, like one would when talking over coffee. The pitch black lion jumped up onto the bed, and Sly’s heart stopped for a beat. He wasn’t scared of the allmates - he wasn’t, he told himself again as he tried to struggle his way out of the hold again.

The fur that settled against his bare side was warm and relatively soft, unlike the body beneath. Huge paws nudged into his side under his ribs. It could almost be cute, if not for it’s intimidation factor. Those dark, deep black eyes settled in on Sly with a look that matched Trip’s; predator looking at prey. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Sly whipped his head to face Trip over top of him. The two fingers were still moving inside of him and making it hard to think.

The blonde head of hair shook once, Trip’s smiling turning into a grin quickly. “We both want to show you some love, Sly. You’ve been so good. You deserve it.”

Cruel blue eyes turned hungry when the pink tongue of the allmate came out to swipe over Sly’s body, leaving behind light pink marks of irritation. His torso twisted to try and get away, only making the other side with the stitches hurt worse. No matter where he tried to turn to get away, it ended up in some sort of pain. Yet, the words from Trip… Show him love. It beat at his ability to actively fight it. There was already not much of a fight in him, and the choice words made him far more willing to play the game Trip had started. 

“Okay…” Sly cautiously spoke with a small tremor when Trip’s fingers pushed deeper. “Show me.”

“Mmh.” Trip wordlessly acknowledged it. Remembering Virus’ warning from that morning, he huffed and scissored his fingers inside of Sly’s tight insides. Virus had really done a number on him. It was a little shocking for Virus to disregard safety like that, but it did make it more fun to feel how Sly was writhing in pain just from the preparation. It was hardly what you would call rough, and it showed after a few more minutes that it was nowhere near enough for Sly.

Instead of pulling away and squirming to try and get further away, he had started to push down. And not lightly. Each time Trip’s fingers thrust into him he made sure his hips pushed down at the same time, working his body to get more pleasure from it. 

“More… nh… Trip, more!” His voice raised immodestly, not caring how loud he might be. “Love me, ruin me!”

The begging set Trip into motion. Sly begging for his love… It got him to pull his fingers out and apply more lube to both Sly’s messy hole and his cock. As soon as his tip touched against Sly’s rim he was stretching his body out, wiggling his hips to get full of him as soon as possible. The urge to be completely, entirely wrecked as he had been the night before was spilling out in way of every little slutty move Sly was making - from trying to fuck himself onto Trip’s cock to his pleading look with lips parted and a little pink sliver of his tongue bitten between his teeth. 

“Come on…” Sly impatiently muttered. 

The little begging words, the cute blushed faces - there was no way Trip was going to last long enough after the wait he had had to endure. Not with Sly pulling out all the stops to be as adorable as possible. A grunt left Trip’s lips and he let go of Sly’s wrists just long enough to flip him over carelessly. Sly’s chest hit the bed and before he could even get his bears Trip was pulling his ass up by holding one of his hips. 

Trip’s hand moved to guide his cock back into place. There was a hazy comment on Sly’s tongue until he felt the thick cock start to push into him, stretching him way wider than the two fingers could have ever hoped to. “O-Ohhh… Fuck.” He whined out, grabbing onto the bed and almost elbowing Welter in the face. Lucky for him, the lion dodged it and nosed his muzzle under Sly’s arm instead. Shaking fingers dug into the shaggy mane and clung there for some kind of support as Trip bottomed out inside of him, the span of his cock filling him up entirely.

Sly’s body pulsed in time with his heartbeat, as well at the ache that settled around the hot cock. A few seconds, that was all the time he had before the arm that wasn’t around Welter was pulled painfully back up. Trip’s other hand still kept hold of his hip so that when he pulled out he could easily pull Sly back into the harsh slam of hips. It was nothing like Virus. No holding back, no concern for how Sly was going to handle it. He took his own pleasure from Sly, much more forcefully and, to Sly’s surprise, much more loudly.

While Virus had been reserved the entire time, Trip made it no secret that he was enjoying every minute of theirs. The rough grunts from behind him went straight to Sly’s cock where it hung between his legs, swinging with each strong thrust. A thin line of pre had spilled down onto the bedding from the reddened tip, his shaft throbbing in need.

“Harder!” Sly cried and squirmed, shoulders starting to hurt from the strain of his arm held above his head so tightly. 

“So needy… Cute…” Trip gladly complied to the request. Every snap of his hips had Sly’s thoughts scattering. His body could hardly keep up and soon enough his legs fell out, relying completely on Trip to hold him there so he didn’t fall flat onto the bed. A breathless chuckle escaped Trip. Sly was asking for so much more than he could handle, yet he still took it so well. Affection welled up as he watched Sly shift over the bed and cling to Welter where the lion passively let every grab and pull happen. 

White spots came in and out of Sly’s vision as he was pounded hard enough to see stars. The calm from before washed back over him as he was given everything he asked for - thoroughly, and totally wrecked by the monster who held him up so tightly. Heat collected quickly, too fast for him to push it back down. Why even bother? His head was already swimming. An orgasm could only make it better. The assault to his insides continued, and without a single touch to his cock he came from Trip alone. A long, dreamy cry pulled from his lips as he spilled onto the bed below.

Trip’s moan filled laugh is hardly recognized as Sly sank into the bed, letting Trip use his body like a doll. He felt as if he was floating a little above his body, away from it all but feeling it all so powerfully. Something shifted, and all of a sudden a tingling sensation went through his hair before… Trip kissed him, soft at the back of his neck, bringing him back down to earth. It was sweet, a juxtaposition to the harsh way his cock was churning up Sly’s insides even as the oversensitivity set in. It didn’t matter; it all felt good in the thick afterglow.

“Did it feel good, Sly?” Trip asked with short, excited breaths against Sly’s skin. 

A nod came as answer and more kisses were littered over the darkened parts of his skin. It felt… good. Really good. 

“Just a little more.” The gruff sound of Trip’s voice was getting more hoarse the more he sped up. With Sly satisfied and drifting somewhere Trip could never hope so guess, using him as a cock sleeve was so effortless, it was almost a turn on for him. The idea of filling him and adding more to Sly’s relaxed, high expression was enough to get him to put that much more strength into each movement until the frame of the bed was knocking into the wall. Virus would kill him, but that was the least of his worries. Sly had never stopped twitching and pulsing around him, and the noises that were spilling from him were now low, sweet, and drawn out. No longer desperate to reach his peak. Just enjoying it. Enjoying each thrust that would have tore apart anyone else with pain. But not Sly, not their cute Sly. 

“Going to… come, Sly.” Trip’s breath hitched in what Sly thought had to be the most attractive way, and at the last moment teeth sunk into his neck. The abrupt pain of the bite on the sore spot cut through the thick haze and a shrill sound cry came from Sly’s open mouth. 

All movement stopped after a last ragged, hard thrust that had Trip buried deep inside Sly’s now loose ass. Warmth spread over Sly’s body from the inside, a feeling that he wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to. A warm tongue slid along the flesh in Trip’s mouth, along with rugged, uneven breaths that gradually became quieter. To Sly, it seemed like forever, but in reality it took only a minute or so for Trip to let go of Sly’s neck and stand up straight again. He still held the weight of Sly’s hips, and as he gently lowered Sly’s lower half and his cock pulled back, a mess of his cum dripped down along Sly’s perineum. Humming, Trip swiped his thumb through it. 

“Don’t be gross.” Sly mumbled into Welter’s mane, his heartbeat feeling slow and lazy along with the rest of the world. 

“This isn’t gross. You haven’t seen gross, yet.” Trip retorted and licked his thumb. 

“Show me later. Snuggle me  _ now.” _ Sly demanded. Not very threatening, since his eyes were half closed and he was laying there debauched in Trip’s oversized sweater. 

Who was he to not comply to demands, though? After all, they were supposed to be making Sly the faux mastermind here. ‘In control’ and all. So, Trip pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his pants to join Sly on the bed. The small man was entirely limp when Trip moved him to lay further up on the bed on his side, so he could comfortably spoon behind him with their heads on the pillows. It was nice to see the bruises forming on Sly’s wrists where his hands were still staying lightly gripped onto Welter - who had shuffled his heavy weight across the bed along with them. A mooch for Sly’s attention, truly. But… Trip couldn’t blame him. The man in his arms fell asleep quickly, and Trip was more than happy to spend time tracing fingers over the curve of his hip.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings:  
> \- real gore this time  
> \- sexual gore  
> \- medical gore: surgical cuts  
> \- medical in general  
> \- emotional bullshit as well  
> \- Virus Has Emotional Backups.txt  
> \- fighting and snark and whatnot

“Virus?”

“Yes?”

“Can I go home?”

Icy blue stares connected over Sly’s head, unseen by their beloved where he was leaning into Virus’ side with legs on Trip’s lap. 

“Why would you want to go home?”

It had been almost two weeks since the first night Sly had stayed over. If Virus or Trip were asked, they would say that they’ve been perfectly lenient about the situation. They were supplying for Sly completely now with only the best of the best, they let him continue to play Rhyme, even allowed him to stay at his friends house for a night - the leader of the Rib team. Staying connected to a social network was important, after all. Especially for someone like Sly.

So why would he ask to go home again?   


Slim shoulders shrugged, and the slither of scales against blankets sounded as Hersha retaliated from the disturbance by moving away from Sly. Fussy. It wasn’t uncommon to find one or both of the allmates snuggled up to Sly when he was blitzed and calm enough to let them crowd him. More often than not, his quick temper was dampened by either pain, pleasure, or being too high to be riled up. It made for a nice mix of cuddly and snarky without violence at either of the two blondes. At other people… still a wild card, sometimes. 

Like just then, when Sly had been quiet and happy to stay with Virus while he lounged with a drink and a book in hand for the past hour. The question was out of seemingly nowhere. 

Trip had also been relatively quiet where he was on Virus’ bed, on his coil and tracing shapes over Sly’s bare legs - over old and new bruises and scars that were peppered around his ankles, knees and legs. The question had drawn his attention just as much as it had Virus, and he was the first to speak up about Sly’s silent (and nonexistent) explanation. “You don’t go home often. In fact, haven’t you told us you don’t like it there?”

“That’s right.” Virus answered and watched as Sly’s head turned to look at Trip, then over at him. “You have mentioned it a few times. You chose here over going back home, if I remember correctly.” 

“I do like it here better.” Sly’s brow scrunched together in a look of frustration at how he couldn’t get his thoughts together properly. His brain was scrambled from the high, and from the fleeting touches that he had been given for the last… however long it had been. Trying to keep track of and remember what he wanted to say was always harder when one or both of the men were touching him. “It’s fun here. I like it here. I just…”

He hesitated. How do you tell two guys you’ve been fucking and getting high with non-stop that there’s a huge pit of despair somewhere inside of you that won’t go away? You don’t. Not really. It doesn’t come up very easily and spitting it out isn’t the most casual. Trip and Virus were both watching him with their inhuman, yet strangely comforting looks. Waiting. Giving him the time to actually come up with the words he needed. 

Both of them were quiet while Sly sat there, looking kind of glassy eyed. The gears were turning, Virus could see it. It wasn’t that difficult to read the general aura of ‘not okay’ that could so suddenly surrounding their blue haired beauty. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before. It’d be stupid to expect him to be okay - being as he was a drug addict, and someone who most likely had a personality disorder along with depressive symptoms and a power that he had no idea how to control yet. Virus almost felt bad for him… If not for the fact that they were purposely worsening the addiction. In some way, they were helping him cope with the other aspects, just not with the most healthy of coping mechanisms. Sly had yet to try and force his escape, though. It couldn’t be too bad. 

The book in Virus’ lap was set down in favor of moving a strand of hair behind Sly’s ear to show more of his face. “Would going home make you feel better?”

The gentle question had Sly’s face going blank. He had to question whether he had said something, or been that obvious that something wasn’t exactly right. Neither him nor Trip had ever outright mentioned it before, and it seemed like it was about to actually happen. Not that Virus had plans to outright ask about it. That would be the opposite of productive for what they wanted. Watching Sly struggle with it was kind of interesting in it’s own way, anyway.

“No.” Going back home would entail having to speak to Granny, and being held up in his room where he had spent so long feeling like nothing in the world mattered anymore. It would mean seeing the disappointment written on Granny’s face and having to face the consequences of all of his actions. Here, he didn’t have to deal with any of that. Here, all he had to do was let go and let the blondes bring him to ecstasy, over and over again. It was so  _ easy. _ It would be so simple to just ask for something more, something to get rid of it all from his head. 

“You said you could make it hurt.” Sly stated in a cautious manner. 

Neither Virus’ nor Trip’s expression changed at all. When Virus spoke it was in the same even tone. “Have we not been satisfactory?” 

Somehow the question felt accusatory. “No, you have. I just… want more.” 

“More.” Virus tested the word out on his tongue and chuckled near silently. “I think we could have that arranged.” 

 

* * *

 

Sly had never been to the room that he was lead to. It was past either bedroom, further down the hall. Smaller than both rooms, it held nothing more than the bare essentials for it to qualify as a bedroom. If Sly had to guess, he’d say it was a guest room - if not for the presence of what he could only describe as hospital equipment. Above the bed a large light was poised along with a stand beside it that held metal instruments that Sly couldn’t hope to name. The lights in the room had been set to the brightest possible setting, and every visible surface had been cleaned and sterilized in preparation for what had been asked of the two blondes. 

Anxious energy swallowed Sly whole as he was led to sit down on the bed with Trip beside him. Virus flitted around the room in an organized fashion. An ugly plastic mask was handed to Trip, then set into place on his face by an elastic strap around the back of his head that pinched his hair uncomfortably. With no idea what it was hooked up to, a sound came to life in the room and wet misty gas started to filter into the mask from the thick plastic tubing attached to it. The effect was lackluster at best for what felt like forever. Luckily, being able to sit back against Trip’s chest wasn’t terribly uncomfortable… It was nice, actually. Really nice. Slowly, Sly closed his eyes and within minutes he felt himself floating off. Hands grabbed as his shoulders and he was moved, but it was okay. His eyelashes fluttered and felt strange when he opened his eyes again.

The mask was lifted, and the feeling of the moistened plastic on Sly’s face not exactly pleasant. What was  _ very  _ pleasant was the way the ceiling circled overhead, round and round. The world moved in slow motion, leaving trails and shadows of where things used to be - ten Virus’ standing in front of him, several different lights overhead. 

“He can’t pass out. None of this will work if he does.” Virus spoke lower, more strict and serious than his normal nonchalance. 

“I know.” Trip assured. Sly’s head in his lap lolled to the side, neck completely slack, and nuzzled his cheek to the rough fabric of Trip’s pants. Both hands came to steady him on either side of his head. “The amount was right. He’s sedated, not out. If he drifts then I’ve got it.” 

“Good. He  _ has  _ to feel it.” Virus stressed the word, still making sure to keep his voice even as possible. The leather straps cushioned the fading bruises around Sly’s wrists and ankles as Virus buckled them into place. There was a slight give to them but not enough for Sly to do anything more than writhe. Anything more would chance him hurting himself. 

Trip rolled his eyes. “Relax. You know he wants to. Unless he blacks out after he gets off, he’ll be fine.” 

The entire conversation was lost on the man laying between them. It was too hard to actually concentrate on the words, if it was even possible. He hadn’t tried very hard. Both Virus and Trip knew it wasn’t likely he’d be listening, so words could be looser than if he had been conscious enough to understand. So long as they both kept their voices at the right tone and level, Sly wouldn’t be alarmed by any of it. 

Sitting back down, Virus pulled on latex gloves one by one, letting the plastic snap to his wrists. “He will. Without the analgesic, the pain may knock him out before he gets to that point, though.”

“His tolerance is pretty good.” Trip’s words grabbed Sly’s hazy attention. Virus was far off, but Trip was right there above him, and gladly gave a small smile down at him. 

“We’ll see.” Virus stood to the side and felt at Sly’s stomach with eyes scanning closely.

The high clank of metal against metal was muffled and subdued to Sly’s ears as Virus reached out to pick a scalpel from the array of tools set out on the stand beside the bed. His body felt like it was dislocated from his head where Trip was holding it and stroking fingers through his hair. Light, tingling sensations covered his scalp and ran down his spine pleasantly with the touches. Watching Sly, with his glazed over eyes and semi-conscious gaze looking up to Trip without much understanding… Virus could already feel his cock start to fill out in his pants. 

There were no marks or guidelines, but Virus didn’t need them. One hand pressed fingertips to Sly’s skin just under where the other was letting the very tip of the scalpel rest at the beginning of where the cut would be - exactly half an inch under his naval. Getting a clean cut without actually going straight through all layers of the skin would take precision. Getting it wrong would be more trouble than it’s worth… Maybe. If it did go south, there was already sutures laid on the metal tray. Just in case.

The sharp point cut through the top layer of skin with the slightest bit more pressure applied by Virus’ hand. Blood welled up in pretty pearls around the blade, and Sly’s stomach contracted in a startled gasp. Both blondes looked to his face, where pain registered in a grimace. Feeling the pain blossom liked fireworks over his stomach was odd through the thick daze the anesthetic put him into. It hurt - like hell. It was what he would assume getting stabbed must feel like, only not as deep. Shallow, like… Like the few times he’d tried to use a knife on himself. Stupid - he could never control himself enough to not go further. But this, this was someone else’s hand on the blade, controlling where it went, how deep, when it would stop. And who better to control it then Virus? The thought came somewhere along with the burning sting and strange wetness that he felt on his stomach. Warmth slowly rolled over his body as his nervous system reacted, his brain filling in the blanks with warmth and affection for the blonde who he knew was the cause of it all.

It was the drag downwards that set everything alight. The reaction to the initial cut was nothing compared to when Virus sliced down a calculated inch. The blood came quicker, pooling at the cut and getting on Virus’ gloved hand where it was set. With quick reflexes, Virus pulled the blade back half a second before Sly’s body convulsed with the pain. The blood covered his stomach and made a mess on the sheets below, but they had known it would. The sound Sly made was close to a scream, only quieter; A pained wail that Virus felt go straight to his arousal with a deep throb. 

Tears welled in unnaturally vibrant yellow irises, streaming down Sly’s face to where Trip’s hands held him. Desperation overtook his features as he tried to pull his arms from the straps that kept him held down to the bed. Panic settled in when he couldn’t move his arms, confused about what was holding them down. The pain clouded everything, and all he could see was the blurry, incomprehensible figure above him. 

All the while Trip smiled down at him, thumbs stroking over Sly’s cheekbones. Just as he thought, their Sly was far too used to pain to ever succumb to it and pass out. 

“Sly, we’ve barely started. Calm down, hm?” He cheekily remarked in the most soothing voice he could muster. 

Sly didn’t give an answer other than loud, pained breathing, but Virus chuckled at the request. Fingers slippery in the warm blood, he gently pressed down above Sly’s hips and waited the long seconds it took for his body to stop trying to arch and twist. A whispered shush fell from Virus’ lips, probably falling on deaf ears, and he placed the palm of one of his hands flat on Sly’s skin. The blade of the scalpel was slick with blood when it touched back down to the end of the cut. It slotted into place and a pitched squeak of protest came in response from Sly. 

Slicing down and through was a breeze. It wasn’t quick as it could have been with how Sly tried to twist and squirm, ending up hurting himself further in the process. Yet that was more than okay. It was preferable to take the time to feel metal slowly glide through skin. It was equivalent to building up the anticipation. Foreplay, almost. It was impossible to make any truly satisfying contact with both hands occupied, but getting to see the object of his affections pinned down like a butterfly, deep blue and spread out to admire… it was more than enough for Virus. It was better than anything else he’d ever done. None of their past interrogation tactics or pure brutality could ever hope to amount to this sugary sweet violence. 

There was a clear red tint to Virus’ cheeks by the time the cut reached down just above the beginning of the shock of blue hair around Sly’s cock, beginning to stain with thick red. Somewhere in the time that he had been so entranced in his work the man had started to fill out. One glance up at where Trip was holding his face was enough to know that Sly was delirious with the pain. A steady hand set the bloodied scalpel back down on the tray. The latex of the glove was wet against the warm flesh of Sly’s erection as Virus took hold of it. 

“You’ll make a mess.” Trip commented without much infliction or care. 

“Shut up.” Virus mumbled, practically inaudible over the choked gasp let free from Sly’s lips at the first firm stroke delivered. If anyone knew about the risks of infection posed by getting anything into the cut, it was him. He’d worry about it later.

All focus was going into how their Sly was out of it like he’d never seen before. Brilliant eyes were unseeing where they stared up, full of tears, past Trip at the ceiling. His lips were tinted pink-ish red where he must’ve bitten them hard enough to draw blood. Every panting breath made his flushed chest rise and fall beautifully. Each throb that Virus felt go through the dick in his hold was accompanied by a leak of precum that shone in the bright overhead light. Every part of Sly’s body felt like it was throbbing along with it in time to the pain that filled his body. It was far too much and yet not enough. He felt like he was going to end up swallowing his tongue from trying to get his mouth to work to beg Virus to work his hand faster. 

Heat flared and licked along the thin wound. It felt like it must be so much deeper and thicker than it actually was. It felt like it would open him up and everything would fall out… and that felt more than okay. Showing himself to these two in such a way was an intoxicating thought, even if he only managed to hold onto it for half a second. He’d open himself up for them anyway they wanted, or let them do it themselves. They could carve him open and empty him out, fill him with the addictive pain they gave him so well. They had kept their part of the deal. No one else could make it hurt like this. 

“Vi… Virus,” Sly barely managed to strangle the name out and the rough, dazed quality of it went directly to the fire between Virus’ hips.

For the first time, it felt almost embarrassing to be doing something of the manner in front of Trip. He’d never been one for an audience, but he had never considered Trip as one before. It never mattered if Trip was there when he was antagonizing someone meaningless. Fooling around with other people to get what they wanted was commonplace and if they just happened to be together or around one another when it happened, it didn’t matter. Now, Virus couldn’t make himself look up to see where Trip was looking or what expression he was making. Arousal coursed through him to the point where he wished he could kick Trip out and take Sly right then and there. 

Which… was stupid. The entire thought process was incredibly irrational and idiotic. Trip wasn’t competition. Jealousy was nothing more than an instinctual feeling brought on by feelings that Virus knew he didn’t hold. Even if Sly was different than the rest, it wasn’t possible to have those types of feelings for him.

“He’s made a wreck of you, Blue. I bet you love it. You’ll do anything to feel good, won’t you? Do you want to cum for us?”

Virus finally made himself glance up at hearing the deep, smooth words come from his counterpart with the signature amused chuckle. Trip’s attention was downcast at Sly where he was nodding his head feverishly in the younger blonde’s lap. With pupils blown wide Sly was having issues actually focusing on Trip and his arms were straining even harder against the restrains as if trying to reach out for him. Both of Trip’s large hands skimmed down along Sly’s neck to his shoulders, soothing down his shaking arms and whispering closer to his ear.    


“Of course you do. You’re so easy. You’d let anyone get you off.” Trip sneered and both blondes stopped their movements as a look crossed Sly’s face. It was hard to place when it was marred by the pain, but if Virus didn’t know better he’d say it was hurt. Deja vu to the night they had first picked him up hit him and pulled at him unpleasantly. 

Sly strained and shook his head slowly from side to side. More tears bubbled up and Trip looked up to Virus quickly. A shrug came as response and they both looked back down to Sly. 

“N-no…!” Trying at all to get any more words or explanation out was hopeless. The panic that surged up through Sly’s core at the implication was helpless to get out into the open air. Maybe he was a slut but no one else ever saw him like the two did. No one else had ever gotten to pull pain and tears out of him like this. They had to know that, didn’t they? From how they were looking at him, he couldn’t tell. Everything spun and swirled in a confusing mess until Trip’s hands were back on his cheeks and holding him still. 

“Alright, Sly.” Virus’ free hand moved to stroke along the inside of Sly’s thigh, leaving behind bloody trails the shape of his fingers. “Not anyone. You’ll only let us touch you.”

Slowly, carefully, Sly’s head nodded within Trip’s hold and Virus hummed in satisfaction. His fingers loosened around Sly’s cock and stroked in a steady rhythm until their plaything looked utterly overwhelmed by everything happening. They would have to learn to anticipate these kind of emotional outbursts when they got him past certain points. Shock wouldn’t be the right word for it, but whatever feeling came along with seeing Sly hurt in such a different way than normal… it wasn’t pleasant. It soured Virus’ stomach and brought a much different kind of violence to the forefront of his mind. Whoever, whatever made Sly so quick to panic about such things...   
  
“That’s right. You are ours.” Virus spoke again to center both himself and Sly with the words. Getting wound up now wouldn’t help anything. He would have to do something about the blood drying around the cut soon enough, and make sure that vitals were okay after everything. They should stop, probably. The idea bounced around Virus’ head for a few moments before being pushed away. Sly could handle this. 

A slight squeeze to the base of Sly’s cock proved it with a beautiful moan spilled from those tainted lips. With everything so intense, Virus doubted that the young man would last much longer. The drugs mixed with the adrenaline and endorphins from the pain, along with the chemical release from Sly’s emotional imbalances might even be dangerous. It was hard to tell through the little whimpers and moans, which quickly morphed into mumbling. From where Virus stood it was difficult to hear, giving Trip the advantage. 

“Faster.” Trip casually said with his chin tilted towards Virus and eyes pinned on Sly’s flushed face. 

There was no argument. Virus’ hand sped up a calculated amount, and the quiet mumbles turned into desperate cries of ‘I love you’s, words stumbled over one another in the urgency of it. There wasn’t enough hope in the world to make it so Trip wouldn’t look up to see the look that came across his face. Pace faltered, Virus’ expression went truly, completely blank. No polite smile set in place or clear-cut gaze to mask the shock. Technically… By all accords, it  _ was  _ part of the plan. Wasn’t it? They were trying to get Sly to stay with them, by any means necessary. Manipulating him into thinking that he was the one in control, making sure he was too out of his mind to ever question any of it, doing anything to make sure he wouldn’t be in the mind to escape or want to leave. But had they really been able to manipulate him into such intense affection? Surely, that wasn’t possible in such a short time. Even if Sly hadn’t ever shown any real indication of hating being with them, loving them was another thing completely. It wasn’t possible. It just… wasn’t. Whether Virus wanted it or not - it wasn’t possible.

From intuition alone Virus could tell that Trip was grinning like an idiot. Thin brows pulled together and an icy glare fixed on the annoying grin. There was no way it would truly scare or even intimidate the other, but it made him feel better to make the attempt. 

“Don’t stop. He’s close.” Trip even sounded pleased with himself as he spoke. How could he not, after hearing something like that come from their Sly’s pretty lips? Sly loved them. He was beaming with the knowledge of it. Virus’ reaction was merely the icing on top of it all. 

No acknowledgement came from the older of the two other than his concentration shifting back to jerking off their captive. It didn’t feel at all right to call him that anymore, though. Their… Whatever Sly was. Theirs, by all means. No matter what he was, he was theirs and only theirs now. If anyone else dared to lay a finger on him they would lose a few. 

Seeing Sly arch and twist and push himself into more pain made it hard to think on that, though. His breath had gone from ragged to worse in the past minute since the labored begging and confessions had started, and now he was hardly holding on. Trip might have been right about Sly passing out after reaching orgasm if it kept up like that. Hardly half a minute of proper attention and Sly was gone with a cry of ecstasy.

A mess of white shot across Sly’s stomach and up to his chest. Trip cooed out praises that went right over the blue head of hair, but helped him calm down enough to properly catch his breath. He could hardly keep his eyes open even a sliver while his cock twitched and softened in Virus’ hold until the movements slowed to a stop. Everything blurred in and out with pain verging on the very edges of his consciousness - mostly sharp blips of stings where the cut had been disturbed by the mess he’d made of himself. The room clouded in and out of his small sliver of his vision until his eyes finally closed and it all disappeared in a comfortable drift with soft touches to his cheeks and the room going quiet. 

From where he stood Virus took a step back and let out an inaudible breath through his nose. Bright blue eyes scanned down Sly’s body and focused in on the mix of blood and cum cooling on his torso. Both gloves were pulled off one by one and replaced with new ones before auto-pilot took over. Trip watched as the blonde got to work meticulously cleaning every inch of the wound along with the rest of Sly’s body where blood had been spilled. He had the common sense enough to stay quiet as Virus worked. Saying anything while the man had plans to stitch anything back up wasn’t a good idea. It also gave him the excuse to keep touching Sly’s face and playing with his hair while he waited.

Only once the sutures hit the tray once more did Trip raise his voice up to just barely a normal speaking tone. “He loves us.” 

Virus’ response came immediately. “He was delirious.”

As nonchalantly as possible, Trip shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I think he meant it.”   
  
“Do not be an idiot.” Virus said near venomously. “He was drugged and in immense pain. He was begging. Thoughtless. He does not love us.” 

The sound of the metal stand rolling across the hardwood floor was overly loud in the now quiet room when it was pushed away from the bed. Latex snapped and the gloves were thrown down onto the tray along with the discarded, bloody instruments. There was still hints of blood on Virus’ arms and smudges left on Sly in some places, but the majority of it was left on the sheets. 

The smart thing to do would be to leave it. It was clear Virus had issues with it, and fighting right after the incident wouldn’t help any. He decided to stay put while the other leaned in to start undoing the restrains on Sly’s limbs.

“And if he does love us?” Trip wondered aloud.

“He doesn’t. There is no point discussing this.” The reply came brisk and without much wiggle room.

“You don’t want him to.” It was a guess, and not his best guess, either. It did its job, though. 

Virus stopped where he was pulling the leather from one of the straps and glared daggers in Trip’s direction. “He  _ can’t  _ love us and you know that. Shut up and carry him to bed. Carefully.” 

Trip shrugged once more. Moving Sly was always easy once he was completely limp and out of it. As cautious about the new stitches as possible, he took Sly up in his arms and maneuvered off of the bed. A silhouette of a blood stain stayed behind to highlight where the small man had been laid. Those sheets would no doubt end up trashed. No way that was coming out in the wash. 

Once the bed was empty Virus moved to pull the sheets off instead of following to where Trip walked over to the door that led back to the hall. 

“Whose room?” Trip turned back and asked in a slightly curious tone of voice. While Sly would usually choose on his own, it would out of his hands at the moment. If he had to guess, he would say Virus would want Sly in his own room for the next few days to keep an eye on his condition until he trusted the recovery. 

Virus didn’t look up from where he was folding the soiled sheets. “Whose ever you like.”

“...Really?” He prompted again after a second of watching the other. 

“Yes,” Virus sighed in frustration at the need for clarification. “Really. Fuck off.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ive gone over this so many times and changed how it goes twice so ill finally just throw it here  
> Trigger warnings:  
> \- non con/rape elements that arent for trip and virus  
> \- drugs and alcohol (as always)  
> \- canon typical violence   
> \- stalking/manipulation/mental abuse  
> \- severe dissociation and dissociative identity disorder depictions

“Ow.” A small sting of pain came along as a finger pressed down on raised flesh, followed by a dull soreness reawakened by the disturbance. The skin around the cut was flushed a soft, new pink as it healed.    
  
“Stop touching it.” A firm voice cut through the playlist of slow tempo, bass boosted, and moody music that Sly had playing from the audio system within the small house’s walls. The command sounded serious and yet it didn’t stop him from continuing to run his fingers over the wound.

His shirt was pushed up to his chest where he was sprawled out over the couch, his slender stomach on display. The line of scar tissue that trailed up his skin was thick and a slightly shiny in the low light of the room. The stitches were gone and everything was healing up nicely even if it was still tinted brighter red in some places. No infection, not much irritation, and the cutest thing ever seen. The daily care given to it had been thorough and unyielding, and Virus couldn’t have been happier with the results. His line of sight drifted anytime it was in view. A constant reminder that he had taken physical claim to the man in a way that would never truly fade. It didn't take a genius to see that the other liked it, too. He had liked the process of getting it. Surely it was reminiscent of the pleasure. Yet, Sly insisted on poking and prodding whenever he got bored without anything to entertain or stimulate him.

“You’re cranky.” Sly pointed out the blatantly obvious.

“No, you are reading between lines that don’t exist.” Virus didn’t bother to look up from his place at the kitchen island, a spread of food across the countertop along with his usual glass of wine. His coil was lit up on his wrist with what would likely be a recipe that he was trying to recreate for dinner. While they had been granted access to services, and were paid well enough to afford to not cook, it wasn't ever a hassle. Keeping Sly healthy in other ways was important if they planned on continuing to destroy his overall health by exploiting his addiction.    
  
Sly didn’t understand why they didn’t just order some Big Mac meals and call it a day.

Shifting around on the couch, he lifted his legs up to rest on the back of the plush velvet, and let Hersha move however he pleased in order to also get comfortable again. The slide of synthetic obsidian scales along his skin was welcome. Trip had taken the fluffier of the two allmates with him when he’d gone off on some errand for work (‘Boring work stuff. You'd hate it.’) and left the two of them at home alone. It was strange to think of the place as home, but it was the closest thing he had to it. As odd as that was. The entire house looked temporary, like a hotel - only bigger. There wasn't anything to mark it as Trip's or Virus’ save for clothes, books, and the allmates. Even those changed around a lot, as if the two would switch out belongings when they went wherever they disappeared to for hours on end for work. He didn't technically know what their jobs even were. All he knew for sure was he was given free reign; each time, night after night, he was given choice. He didn't have to pay a single yen. Aoba challenged the thoughts anytime they came up. It was inconsequential, though, since reason had become so weak. His arguments meant nothing when he was barely there. Back in the Residential District, with the reminders of how empty and desolate his existence was… that wasn’t where Desire belonged. Aoba had thrived there but that could easily be forgotten. Virus and Trip had made this a home for him.

A nice silence settled with only brief sounds of Virus’ cooking as ambience for the lost train of thought. The coffee table was a contained mess of rolling papers, messily grinded weed, snack bags, and an untouched ziplock bag of cocaine that had been oh so nicely set out. An invitation, as the two were always so eager to give. He had to question how they kept it up when he never paid… but he also had no problem taking most of it anyways. Uppers, however, he stayed away from. He didn't use to fuel the energy and need that pushed him towards all his thrills. He used to get away from it all and chill the fuck out. Hence the bag remaining untouched.

It had been enough to keep him lulled, until Sly decided to push further. It was already too long after the initial comment to pick it up, but it hadn't felt like long. “But you have been kind of more stuck up than usual.”

The insult didn’t sting, hardly even irked at the blonde, and if he had wanted to he could have easily ignored it. Were it anyone else, they might have lost a few fingers, maybe a hand, maybe even their life if he was feeling as cranky as previously mentioned. There were always pros and cons of Sly being high but not quite high enough to be completely out of it. His attitude and insistence were charming sometimes. Only sometimes. Ignoring Sly wasn’t something he wanted to do, however. He hated to call him annoying since even with how troublesome he could be, he was captivating. A sight to behold, and one that they had selfishly taken for themselves and no one else.

“Enlighten me. What makes you think that?” He asked after taking a sip of his wine.    
  
The question prompted Sly to actually think, it seemed, based on how his sleek blue eyebrows pulled together and his lips pursed slightly. “You don’t seem as happy when I choose to stay with you, and you get snappier easier, and you don’t use your soft voice as often.”   
  
Virus was keenly aware that Sly had helped himself to smoking and drinking that evening. He wasn’t nearly as bad as when he took heavier substances, but he was chatty and his words were even less eloquent than usual. The answer wasn’t at all what he had been expecting. We was expecting some vulgar recollection of the times that he had snapped at either Sly, Trip, or the both of them in the past two weeks or so. More than a few times he’d gotten short without actually meaning to. Not full out arguing, but if it was enough for Sly to notice than it was too much for him to be comfortable with.

Yet Sly’s answers were somehow… sweet. Considering what had started the foul mood in the first place, that fact should have made it even worse. Instead it managed to sneak in and melt inside his ribs, as if soothing the strange feelings left there after Sly’s delirious confessions. There had been no mention or discussion since it's occurrence, and Virus had a feeling that Sly had no memory of it. More proof that it was the rambling of an endorphin crazed addict. No… too harsh. He mentally berated himself for the thought.

When Virus was quiet for too long without an answer, Sly continued. “If you’re pissed off at me or whatever, then you can just say it. You’ve already stabbed me. Not like you can’t do worse.”

“Ability and willingness are two different things.” Virus pointedly stated. The words sounded as if they were chosen carefully when in truth it was easy to comment on just how much he didn’t plan on ever truly damaging Sly beyond repair. The wording Sly chose couldn't be further from the truth. “You asked me to.”

“You only did it because I told you to?” Sly leaned up on an elbow where he was haphazardly laid across the piece of furniture. What was it about the man that made him refuse to ever properly sit? Teenage defiance? As if it were rebellious to not conform to furnitures purpose. The thought was amusing.

“I did it because you needed me to.”

The simple words got something ticking in the blue haired man. Virus could see him working it through, turning over the words again. It was one of his favorite things to watch; he was so expressive and easy to read, even if it was impossible to truly know what was going on in that mind of his. Too many times Virus had pondered how the exact details of it worked since they figured out the nature of the brain beneath that lovely hair. If Sly was here, was Aoba gone? Was he buried beneath? Were they burying the old Aoba, the innocent one, more with each hit, cut and scar? There didn’t seem to be much background information on any similar situations that he could find, and not much could be gained from the little information Toue had on file. While the intel on Sei was extensive, there was basically nothing on Aoba past his birth aside from normal records that could be found for any citizen. It was to be expected.

After a long minute, Sly disregarded the allmate on the couch and shifted himself around, huffing out an annoyed breath as the snake unwound from his form. He’d thought too many times over the months of knowing Virus that he was a know it all. Too cocky - at first it had been weird but… it was hot, on a lot of occasions. There was always an air to him that made it seem like he knew something you didn’t, some insider secret. Sometimes Sly believed that.

It was another thing altogether to go around throwing around shit like that so casually. If the guy thought he could somehow confidently psychoanalyze him with just a good look, he was sure as hell wrong. It was infuriating. With his feet firmly on the ground again, Sly stood. “I don’t need you.”

Across the room one blonde eyebrow rose a fraction of a centimetre. “Oh?”

“I don’t  _ need  _ you guys all over my ass all the time. You aren’t doing me any favors, I was doing just fine before.” Slender arms crossed over one another in a look of petulant unhappiness. Childish. Virus knew better than to smile about it. Stroking this fire could be a bad play.

“You don't have to stay here if it makes you unhappy.” Virus lied. They knew,  _ he _ knew what was best for Sly. That had been proved time and time again. Every slip up at a club, every time he almost ended up shooting up with tainted trash, everything was and had been kept under watch. All so they could end up here with Sly safely in their grasp. If they had to remind him again, so be it.

“Yeah, no fuck.” It looked like a child storming off from a fight they knew they had lost as Sly crossed through the living room towards the front door. On the couch Hersha rose in interest, meanwhile Virus took to leaning against the kitchen counter, swirling the crimson liquid in his glass as if it were more interesting. A controlled, polite smile crossed his face.

“You still have no valid identification to wander here, Blue. Would you like to be driven back?”

Sly scowled. “No fucking thank you.”

“Alright. Be careful, I would love to have you over again. Bye-bye.” The smile stayed in place and made Sly look even more annoyed. Virus watched as he pulled the door open and slammed it closed heavily, leaving the air in the house quiet and still save for the music still playing. Once it was turned off the room became silent. The smile was dropped and the glass of wine set down in favor of turning his attention to his coil where it rest on his wrist. Trip’s contact information was selected and the soft dialtone gave way to the monotone ringing. It took a hint too long for Virus’ liking and when it was answered, Trip sounded on the verge of being out of breath. There were background sounds picked up on thd other end that he ignored.

“Plans have changed. Meet me in an hour.”

* * *

 

Platinum Jail was uncharted territory. Everything shone silver and blue with a backdrop of artificial stars to top it all off. The ruse of a 24/7 night was clever in the same way casinos being darkly lit was. Time lost meaning without the light of day to shine down and ruin the party. It didn't take Sly long to find his way out of the rows of cut and pasted town houses and into the busier social rush of main roads. Not as fast as it would have been with Ren, but pretty fast for how his high lingered. Surprisingly, it seemed even in Platinum Jail people preferred to get places on foot. The people, however, were nothing like those you'd see walking through the streets there. Colored hair, piercings and generally ‘alternative’ styles weren't uncommon (Mizuki fit into the category well), but the style on the glimmering streets seemed to be everywhere. And much more expensive looking. Sly didn't stick out any in the bustling foot traffic of the streets as he wandered.

Restaurants and small, glitzy shops lined the road. Signs overhead lit up the night and circled through different colorful advertisements. The allmates were all new and upgraded models, so different than his ball of fluff back home. Most of it rubbed Sly the wrong way. These pricks got to sit in Toue's lap of luxury while the rest of them had to work for what they got. All because these people agreed to take Toue's bribes… Pathetic. The temptations, however, weren’t lost on him.

There were almost too many options to choose from; every block had a dance club or bar. The neon lights shined in bright white, blue and pink, luring in passersby to the entertainment inside. One good look made it clear that every enticing entrance was blocked off by jumpers checking coils. Not only was he not legal drinking age, he also didn't have proper clearance to even be standing inside the playground's walls. Not that he hadn't snuck into places before. It was much more lax in the District, but giving up so soon didn't suit him. Putting on his prettiest grin and fanning his hair out more, he found the busiest, most crowded club within walking distance and put on a show. In the low light his long hair and fluttering lashes worked magic on the young man he had ‘accidentally’ bumped into then grabbed onto. The music was thick so close to the entrance but leaning up to whisper in his ear still had the exact reaction he wanted. It always did. Hook, line and sinker.

Flirting his way into drinks through the night, or what he assumed was night, made for a quick spiral. One cocktail, a few shots, beer, tequila, a few  _ more  _ shots. It never truly ended under the harsh high the lights blanketed on him. It was stronger than the ones installed in clubs back home. His head felt airy faster than before, and for a strange moment as he was being pulled against a stranger's body, he didn't want to be there. The thought made a laugh bubble up. This was what he lived for. This was his release, his escape, this was what he looked forward to. Fluorescence bathed the span of the floor and the figures on it swayed in and out in Sly's vision. His eyebrows scrunched together in a displeased expression. It wasn't enough.

An elbow shoved backwards into his dance partner got the hands off of him. There were complaints that went ignored in favor of finding the nearest exit sign. He needed air, needed Aoba to shut up, needed something  _ more  _ to get himself to calm down. The way out the back was dirtier than the front, but just barely. The heavy metal door opened at his insistent shoving and the air outside felt cool against his skin compared to the heated breaths inside. He leaned himself back against the wall near the door and pushed his hair away from his neck, fanning at himself. Everything felt too hot. His shoulders and arms ached, and his head was pounding - deep, insistent pulses. More, more, more. It somehow hurt too much and not nearly enough to sate him.

A hand absently raised to feel the scar on his stomach over his thin t-shirt. Going back to the house after what he said to Virus felt too much like dragging himself back and asking for forgiveness. Like a sulky teen that had taken his temper too far. That was too close to the truth and his mind rejected it. He’d been taking care of himself way longer than he'd been letting those two fawn over him. He just had to find a dealer, someone who could hook him up. He didn't have much cash on him but there were always other ways.

“Hey, sweet thing,”

To his right, a dirty skunk of a man wolf whistled from where a group of them stood at the mouth of the alley. Exactly where Sly needed to be to get back onto a main road. Annoying. Characters like this never had much to offer, other than a headache worse than the one still pounding at the inside of his skull. He could have turned around, gone the other way and completely avoided them, but he stayed in place. The club had been lackluster at best. He had no idea how to get back to the house, even if he could swallow his pride enough to go back. He had no idea when or how he'd be getting a proper hit next. What did it matter if he got into trouble? Somewhere in the back of his head Aoba's logic started up - stop, turn around, don't go willingly into the trap, they would be arrested. It was small, so small. It was quickly drowned out by the force forever compelling Sly forward - desire, need, the unbearable craving to  _ feel something. _

“Wanna try that again, asshole?” Sly rose his voice to call back.

Short, painted fingernails dug into his palms in a shitty attempt to stop his hands from shaking. He’d been in fights before. They were frivolous entertainment in between Rhyme games and partying. He had even been good at them when he wanted to be. Being in Platinum Jail didn't make it any different than all the times before. This could be it, the rush of chemicals to his brain that would make thinking easier again. Enough that he could score something to truly numb the pain and not be stupid about it.

The three guys all quickly rose to the occasion. The one who seemed to be the leader of the posse strutted forward. A careless looking man with green liberty spikes and horns sticking out of his forehead in the least classy body mod Sly had ever seen. He towered a good half a foot over Sly's height, and looked like he took much more care about his work out habits. Like Trip.

The thought immediately got pushed back and what little of Sly's focus remained locked onto the man where he was now standing only a foot away.

Hands lazily rested in the man's jean pockets as he leaned in. “Got an issue, pretty boy?”

Sly scoffed. “Choose a better insult.”

“Wasn't an insult.” A wicked grin split across the man's face. From the corner of his eye Sly could see his jockeys crowding in on either side while spikes took steps forward to keep him with his back to the wall.

“Aw. You really think I'm pretty?” Sly's cockiness knew no bounds. Even at a three against one advantage, cornered in a foreign place. He returned the grin. “Can't say the same. You're ugly as fuck.”

The taunting was sloppy, not his best work. All he could think about was when the first blow would connect, and where he would get to feel the pain blossom to life. Hopefully over old bruises. Adrenaline coursed through him and had him trembling along with the uncontrollable need. It pulled at the pit of his stomach and made his chest feel too tight, his lungs too empty. He needed to feel it on his skin, deep in his bones; the desperation to be destroyed overtook him.

He hardly heard the douchebag reply over the pounding of blood in his ears.

“Something so pretty shouldn't act like such a cunt.” The vulgar words were laced with a disgusting kind of satisfaction.

The hand that moved to cover his mouth tasted like tobacco and sweat against Sly's parted lips. The force made his head slam back against the wall, dizziness shaking through his skull. Sly lived for every second of stars after it. He was going to be throttled then and there, and it was going to be perfect. Maybe his head would be cracked open, banged over and over into that pretty silver wall, staining it with his blood. He wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again. The ache in his chest would be gone forever and the release would be so,  _ so  _ sweet. It would be the end.

“How about we teach you a better way to use your mouth?”

What? Sly didn't understand the meaning of the question in his needy haze. It was rhetorical, of course. No one waited for him to answer. He tried to voice a protest only to end up with two fingers pushed into his mouth, slid to the inside of his cheek. Rough hands grabbed onto each of his shoulders and before he could even look to either side they pushed him down, pinned his arms above his head. His knees hit the pavement with a strangled grunt and the denim ripped across it, blood soaking into the fabric. The pain of it was jarring at best, annoyingly stinging at worst. The man in front of him used his free hand to grab hair at the side of his head and jerk his head to the side. Everything went white and a ringing filled his ears, a keening cry struggling to get past the fingers in his mouth. His entire brain felt too swollen to fit in his skull as the pain throbbed. The sharp hold didn't stop and Sly could feel his gag reflex suddenly come to life.

This wasn't right. Yeah, the pain had worked, technically. It was the ‘more’ that he wanted, the level of agony that would stave off the hunger. It didn't stop though. The hand never loosened it's tight hold on the strands of hair and the pain never eased. Fingers didn't gently pet over the ends to soothe it. No kisses fell upon the electric blue locks. There was no chaser to the pain. There wasn't any care behind the violence. Bright yellow eyes widened as his mouth was pried open. Reason was screaming - he had to do something, before it went too far, but what!? What the fuck was he supposed to do with his jaw aching from the force of his mouth being held open? Around him the scumbags were speaking, taunting with their disgusting attempts at dirty talk. He couldn't pull his arms away and any attempts made them be held even tighter. His voice was useless like this, and for that fact alone, fear crept up and settled over him.

Panicked eyes watched the zipper in front of his face be pulled open and the pants pushed down the guy's legs. The fucker was already hard where his dick hung heavy in the air. Sly flinched when the tip smeared wetly against his cheek. This was  _ wrong. _ This didn't happen, not to him. He didn't second guess. He was the one in control when Aoba was too weak. He should have been okay with this. This was a position he'd been in more times to count on both hands.  But it made him nauseous. He should have been face down on the pavement not face first with -

Bullshit. So much bullshit.  

Heated flesh touched his lips. Instantly he tried to bar his teeth closed. Thick fingers forced themselves between them and pulled his lower jaw down. Pain seared through it and he cried out only to have it interrupted by sheer force of will. It was a fight but he bit down as hard as he could manage. The iron tang of blood filled his mouth and both hands flew away from his face, just like that.

The blood was spit from his mouth to it the ground near the top dog's shoes.

“Get your hands  _ off me! _ ” Sly spoke with a stability that shocked himself. Each word came out sharp and enunciated. His hands stopped shaking where the were still pinned, yellow eyes blinking away tears to glare up at liberty spikes. He looked confused, a little angry, but it all washed away upon the next word.

“ _ Enough! _ ”

The world warped. Everything went too bright and if he hadn't known better, Sly would have thought a Rhyme field was opening up before him. Thoughts that weren't his own started to become clear. Hatred, insecurity, immorality to rival his own. It all spread out before him. A poker game where he could see all the cards: his own, his opponents, the deck. The cracks in the psyche laid out in front of him were waiting, tempting, to be filled or to be completely shattered. A finger reaching out over one seared with a soft sort of pain. A burn where it should have cut.

There should have been more confusion on Sly's end; being pulled into a cracking and crumbling room (simulation?) wasn’t normal. Even on heavy hallucinogens shit like this didn't happen, yet he was calm. His hand never shook even at the twinge of pain. He already knew what to do, just like in Rhyme - he knew the weakness. Pushing his finger in deeper pried the facet open further, and further, until the entire space started to collapse. Like pieces of glass falling out of a window pane. A scream ripped into the air, pulled out of the man's lungs as the real world came back into focus around them both. Liberty spike's eyes had rolled up to the point of only white showing, his face twisted in agony with bloody fingers still twitching in a sad attempt to stop his fate. The two men at his side didn't have time to loosen the hold on Sly's arms before their buddy's body caved to its knees, disregarded to fall heavily to the pavement.

At the opposite end of the alleyway a slick black car pulled up in the midst of the accidental murder. 

  
  


“Tracker says he's here.” Trip confirmed, looking up from his coil where he sat in the driver's seat. The lights outside the car moved to a beat silenced within the vehicle.

Virus impatiently tapped fingers on his leg where it was crossed over the other. “A few more minutes. They’re timed to be in place and confront him exactly five minutes after the hour.”

“The time must have been off.”

Virus shook his head sharply. “That would be careless.”

“They jumped the gun then.” Trip motioned towards the alley with a thumb jutting in the direction and Virus’ attention followed.

“No, they are  _ programmed,  _ Trip,” Virus glared down at the tracker on Trip's coil and felt the exact moment his heart stopped. The small blue dot that symbolized Sly's location had moved to the alley a few minutes before, but the other one, the one to mark their ‘attackers’ hadn't moved at all. The brain washed, disguised Morphine ‘members’ had been directed to hide out in the nearby building shortly after Sly entered the establishment. It was a simple enough plan; rig what was supposed to be a fun evening so instead, Sly would be attacked, leaving him perfectly vulnerable. Easy with the anxious energy Sly put off while going through withdrawal, which was bound to be setting it. At the ‘last second’, they would intervene. It was choreographed so minimal harm would actually befall their pet. It was a lesson, nothing more.

Whoever was in the alley with Sly, those darkly lit shadows moving in the small amount of light afforded behind the building, it wasn't Morphine.

The car door swung open quickly from the force used. The deep bass of the music that the car had been blocking filled the air and just barely had a count off beat with the blood rushing in the blonde's ears.  Virus didn't wait for Trip. He could hear the other door opening but it was blanked out by the mental sirens going off. Stalking down the narrow alley, he stayed close to the wall in the dark; a practiced, lethal killer prowling. The sharp resound of Sly's voice reached him before he was close enough to even attempt to properly assess the situation.

It wasn't news that Sly fooled around. Often. Before they had taken him in to keep the young man had gotten around. It hadn't been much of an issue, as it didn't ever interfere with any of their plans. In the hands of others, Sly was suitably insatiable. That much was clear now that they had successfully done the job of saiting the beastly desire. It was possibly odd that Sly had so quickly gone for such an outlet. He liked to think he knew the patterns of Sly's self-destruction better than anyone, and this didn't fit. In the bad lighting it was difficult to make out details at the distance. He could just make out Sly on his knees between the lowlifes surrounding him. Three of them. Two of them holding, touching, getting their vile hands on his Sly. The other...

The small amount of light gave Virus just enough to capture the look on the face of the man that stood in front of Sly. Screaming pierced through the cover of club music. The collapse took five seconds, the death registering and the neurons seizing to communicate with the body. There were tears on the unsightly animal's face when he went down. It was clean, bloodless, yet somehow horrific. Sly hadn't moved a muscle.

Beside him, Trip blew out an impressed breath. Virus had to agree. He didn't fancy the thought of being in the man's place. He waved two fingers at the remaining thugs. “Trip, handle them.”

It all happened so fast. One second, Sly had been sure he was going to get face fucked into next week. The next he was sitting in front of a dead body killed by his own… something. He had done it. The hands keeping his arms held were gone and they slowly fell back down to his sides. Holy shit. To his left came the sickeningly thick sound of a fist hitting a face. He turned just in time to see Virus crouching down to his side, perfectly blocking the view of his counterpart. Sparing him the gory details.

“Sly,” Virus said his name firmly. A hand came to rest on his chest and Sly tilted his chin down slow, looking at it. The older man was taking him in, looking him over as if taking inventory. The other caressed over his cheek, down to his jaw. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he felt a tremble in Virus’ hand.

A long breath passed through pink lips and Sly's head tipped back against the wall. His body shook with a breathless laugh, a grin lazily spreading over his features. A giggle turned into a full out laugh and soon enough he was in a fit of laughter. He was lightheaded and Aoba was freaking out more than he had ever witnessed, he felt like he was going to pass out, and every part of it had felt  _ so. Damn.  _ **_Good_ ** _. _

He knew Virus was trying to talk to him, and saw when Trip came over to stand beside him with both hands bloody. They both stood looking perplexed as their bluebird cackled away, wheezing on the sidewalk.

“Is he good?” Trip leaned in closer to Virus’ shoulder to speak to him, eyes staying on Sly.

Virus hummed in thought, pulling his arm back to watch. He cringed upon looking to see Trip wiping his hands on his vest. “...Maybe. You drive. I'll take care of him.”

Trip shrugged a shoulder, moving to shed his vest on the way back to the car. It took picking Sly up to shake him out of his fit of laughter, trailing off into softer giggles against the shoulder of Virus’ suit jacket. 

* * *

 

They had killed someone. 

 

Someone who was trying to  _ rape them _ .

 

It was still murder! They murdered someone! They had to get out of there, get home, get clean. Now!

 

They already were home. They were safe if they stayed put.

 

Home was not in Platinum Jail with two deranged criminals! Granny would know what to do, they had to get back.

 

But… they were deranged criminals now, too… right?

 

Reason had lost it sometime during the span of time between when the body hit the ground and when they stepped through the threshold of the house. Sly wasn't sure what exactly ‘it’ was, but it had apparently been the only thing keeping him together. There had always been something wrong, he knew that. From the moment he stepped foot on a Rhyme field, he had felt it. Power. Control.  _ Presence. _ The voice had started later. The separation of Reason and Desire was an unspoken fact for a long time, right up until Aoba flipped and threw things completely off.

Aoba, pure of intentions and kind - if a bit stubborn, had always argued. Sly's lifestyle and choices were going to get them killed, after all. It was almost the goal. But to draw the line at murder was kind of stupid, especially when it had been in self defense. The problem with Aoba was that he was scared; scared of Virus and Trip, scared of losing his old life, and terrified of losing his grip on sanity by the claws of desire for destruction that pierced so deeply into their joint heart. He fought it tooth and nail. Some might've called it heroic or tragic. Sly could only see it as a weakness. Fighting something so powerful when it was reaching out to you, when it was inviting you to fall into it, it just didn't make sense. When it felt that good… Why not let it all go and take the fall?  

 

The ride home had been… strange, for everyone involved. Mania was a valid response to traumatic events. Without his predisposition to chasing euphoria and lack of mental stability to process such happenings, it was no surprise the young man had the reaction. It could be handled. What Virus deemed much more concerning was the sudden switch from manic to catatonic that had happened over the course of the little more than an hour it took to get back. In the back seat of the car with him, the older blonde had been engrossed in how quickly it all played out. Hours later there still hadn't been ay change. Sitting on the couch with Sly cocooned in one of their blankets, Virus had more than enough time to ponder it. The TV was on with a channel mindlessly playing a gossipy entertainment show and every so often the subtle sound of Welter moving would come from where he laid on the hardwood floor. Each time Virus checked to see if Sly was awake, he could see the object of his devoted worrying wasn't focused on the TV but somewhere further, unreachable from where he sat with an arm around him.

An hour passed, then two. Hersha joined them to coil around one of Sly's ankles, to which no response was given. The wine glass in the blonde's hold was refilled more than a handful of times before he finally felt the body against his side become marginally heavier with sleep. Not risking waking him up so early in the stages of sleep, he waited. 

 

The time was more than enough for Trip to see to the cover up. He hated it; it was a chore that was reserved for Virus’ careful insight and clever tongue. Business calls were second nature to the other, just as throwing someone across a room was second nature to Trip. He had agreed to it if only because it was blaringly important for them to make sure no one found anything. If an autopsy was done and word got to Toue, they could kiss Sly goodbye. That, and it didn't seem like Virus was willing to take his eyes off of Sly. Normally he would tease for the intense coddling, but even he had to admit that the empty, glassy look on Sy's usually cute, cunning face was… wrong.

The thought resurfaced as Trip came into the room, bathed in harsh blue light from the TV just as the other two were. It was nicer to see the relaxed look on Sly's face where he dozed with the blanket up to his chin. He was quiet as he walked over and took place sitting on the armrest of one of the chairs. Icy blue eyes glanced at the TV screen. Waiting for the other to speak up first, say something about what had happened. Seconds drew on and the quiet stayed, but of course, the nice silence between them didn't last. It hardly ever did.

“What's wrong with him?” Trip spoke just above the volume of the voices on the television. To an untrained ear the question would have sounded brash and uncaring. The fact that he asked at all showed different and he knew Virus would be able to figure it out.

“I don't know.”

A twinge of anger came over Trip's expression but he trained it back to being even at the ‘try me, I’m too tired to fight’ look he received. He kept his voice down in the thin air. “You don't know?”

“There's no protocol for this. Assuming that it works the same as Sei's condition would be dangerous. There are too many differences and variables, and no way to test any of it. I'm making educated guesses, not exact solutions. Zero point five milligrams of morphine and ten of daizepam, and it still took this long for him to pass out.” Virus said, his tone one of resigned acceptance. The questioning look from Trip prompted him to continue before the question was even spoken. “Something happened after the incident. I've been watching and taking note of it anytime he seems despondent, but it's never been like this. We were right. This Aoba, Sly Blue, is not the same as the one in any of the files.”

“So?” Trip asked less than eloquently.

“So, we can't lose  _ this  _ Aoba.” Virus hissed. “We have to be careful - if something drastic happens it could trigger a change. We don’t know what things will effect it or how they will. We have to find out more.”

“We can't take him Oval. We'd never get him out.”

It was a fact they both knew already. The technology within the walls of the tower were possibly the only way to accurately test and understand this. The limitations, the risks, the full extent of the power Sly held. All of it was out of their reach if they wanted to keep the secret to themselves. Based on how Toue had gladly been conducting research on Sei for years, there wasn’t a doubt in either of their minds. It would be a death sentence. It was bad enough that they were already required to watch Sei waste away under the tyrant's directions.

“No. He's not going anywhere. We'll find a noninvasive way, or we'll come up with a way to do our own tests.”

The larger blonde sighed. His arms stretched out as he leaned back more comfortably. It was all too complicated for his liking. Sneaking around was necessary but it was exhausting to have to think through every move. They had already been careful up until then, and their little punishment for the night had gone wrong anyways. “Clean up is handled. Couple of nobodies from a team I'd never heard of. No one's going to miss them.”

“How?” Virus nitpicked for the details. Too much was on the line. If he had been okay with leaving Sly alone, he would have rathered make sure the job was done himself instead of passing it over.

“Acid. Nothing's going to be left for anyone to find, and the alleys been scrubbed squeaky. No trace.” Trip relayed the information as if reading it off of a document. Short and brief, the way they both liked it.

“Does Toue know?”

“No.”

“Good. We can use this. First priority is keeping the right conscious. I won't accept losing him. Second will be to replicate the immunity with have to Sei to cater to Sly's unique skill.” Virus said strictly. It would be a hassle to figure out, but they had taken on more difficult tasks before. It would be worth it ten times over in the end if they did it properly. A hand silently rose to brush electric blue bangs away from Sly's face, showing off his peaceful, near innocent expression as he slept.


End file.
